Full Circle
by maven13
Summary: An attempt on Stephanie's life forces her to come to terms with her relationship with Ranger and ultimately leads her on a journey into his past, which becomes her imminently dangerous present. Adult themes and violence, lots of angst, but has a HEA.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Full Circle

Disclaimer: The Stephanie Plum series belongs to Janet Evanovich. No infringement is intended.

Summary: An attempt on Stephanie's life forces her to come to terms with her relationship with Ranger and ultimately leads her on a journey into his past, which becomes her imminently dangerous present.

Rating: T for now, will change to M for later chapters. Contains scenes of domestic violence.

Author's Note: This story was originally posted in March, 2011 and was later removed. This is a reposting of that story.

PROLOGUE

The evening air was sweltering, though it was hours after sunset. I could feel rivulets of sweat rolling down my back. It was hard to even breathe; the humidity was so thick in the air. Distantly, I could hear the relentless pounding of the waves on the sand. The sound was soothing and calmed me somewhat, as it always had.

I waited, though it was killing me by slow inches. One wrong move, and it would go wrong. So wrong. My eyes squeezed shut briefly as I thought of what the consequences would be, and for a moment, my heart seemed to stutter in protest. No. I couldn't think about that. I flexed my fingers, keeping the blood moving.

The lightest of movements, barely above a whisper in the darkness, and my eyes flew open. It was time.

CHAPTER 1

I stood in the cold, the icy wind biting right through my sodden clothes. My teeth started to chatter so I clenched my jaw tightly to make them stop. Sirens wailed in the distance and I listened with dismay as they gradually grew fainter. The sleet beat against my face, feeling like tiny pinpricks of ice against my skin. I blinked my eyes rapidly, trying to clear them.

I could no longer feel my hands. The rope binding them had cut off the circulation and they'd long since gone numb. Glancing down, I saw the dark water swirling twenty feet below the short platform on which I was standing. To my eyes, the water seemed like it was hungry and just waiting for me. Bitterly, I thought of how I'd gotten in this situation.

I'd been on the tail of a skip, as usual. Darrin Tessler had been arrested for stalking and injuring his ex-girlfriend. And by injuring, I meant she no longer had a left arm. He'd been released on bail because they hadn't been able to conclusively prove that it hadn't been an accident.

Tessler was very smart and he had an odd hobby – booby traps, which probably explained how he'd hurt his ex. His cleverness combined with him being a sociopath made him much more dangerous than I had anticipated. He'd booby trapped his house so, when I entered looking for him, I'd been unceremoniously knocked unconscious. By what, I never discovered because when I woke, I was bound and gagged. He'd forced me at gunpoint to this pier and out onto the precipice where I now stood.

Tessler was long gone now and I know what you're thinking. If he was gone, why was I still standing in the freezing rain on a much too narrow piece of plywood above the freezing waters of the Delaware River? The answer is that Tessler thought it would be funny to leave one last trap before leaving town.

You see, on the other side of my little plank which rested on the safety of the pier was a large bucket of sand. The bucket had a hole in the bottom which allowed the sand to slowly seep out, falling through the cracks of the pier into the water below. The weight of that sand was what kept my end of the plank from dropping me into the depths. I could just walk up the plank, except Tessler had rigged me as well. A thin wire was tied to my belt loop, the other end of which was hooked to an explosive device affixed to the underside of the plank beneath my feet. If I so much as moved an inch forward, I could set it off. When the sand got low enough, the plank would drop in the water and render the explosive inoperable, but by then it wouldn't matter anyway. With my hands tied and my mouth gagged, I wouldn't stand a chance in the dark, angry depths of the river.

Honestly, I didn't know what to do and tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. It made me angry that I was just standing here, waiting to die. If I took a step forward, the end would be mercifully quick, but it didn't seem I had the guts to do that because my feet just wouldn't move.

I watched in morbid fascination as the sand continued its unhurried descent from the bucket. I'd lost track of how long I had stood, freezing in the rain and trying not to shiver. It was late and I wondered if Joe would be worried. Probably not. We'd been on the outs again and I'd moved what few things I'd had at his place back into mine a couple weeks ago. He wouldn't think to go looking for me – he wouldn't even know I was missing. No doubt he'd think I was shacking up with Ranger, since most our fights and subsequent breakup was because of him.

Ranger. My eyes leaked copious amount of fluid now but I told myself it was the sleet. Ranger was the Forbidden City, the Holy Land, a force of nature unto himself. And I've been in love with him for a long time. Maybe that's why I just couldn't make it work with Morelli. I loved Joe, too, but I lived and breathed for Ranger. Of course, Ranger had made it perfectly clear that any relationship with him beyond friend and colleague was a transient one. He didn't want to marry or even anything long-term. He was the poster child for men with Commitment Issues. Not that I could blame him, not really. His job was one that didn't invite confidants or lovers, much less a wife. Not that I would marry him. Not that he had asked.

I took out a memory, dusting it off in my mind and replaying it. The one and only time we had been together. I seldom allowed myself to think about it anymore, it just hurt too much. If I had known then how he'd take my heart and walk out the door with it, I don't know if I would have let him make love to me. But then again, my sense of self-preservation wasn't so great even at the best of moments.

I had tried to go on as usual, pretending something monumental hadn't shifted in our relationship. God knows he'd been able to. I'd pushed myself to try and make my relationship with Joe work out. But in the end, my heart wasn't in it. Joe had known I was in love with Ranger, though I had never admitted such a thing to a living soul. And now, I never would.

I was shivering violently now, but I couldn't bring myself to care. The sleet had turned to snow and I could feel it coating my head and shoulders. A few flakes landed on my eyelashes and I noticed absently that they gave everything I saw a smudged appearance. I didn't know how much longer I could remain standing. My feet were numb now as well. Looking back down at the water, it no longer seemed angry and turbulent. Now it was almost welcoming, like a large blanket waiting to envelope me and make the pain stop.

Because that's all I felt now. Pain. And not just physically. My chest felt like someone had driven a knife in it. All the regret for holding back, for not taking whatever Ranger would have offered me, beat at me in a never ending litany that would have brought me to my knees, if I could have still felt my knees.

If you're ever given the choice between a quick death or a prolonged one, may I offer you some advice? Take the quick way out. I didn't know which was worse – that Tessler had left me here to die or that he'd made sure I had plenty of time to contemplate my death before the event itself. Time to relive every mistake, regret every word unspoken and many that had been.

Tears were streaming down my face now, freezing almost instantly on my cheeks, and it felt like a mask of ice was forming over my skin. My hands had started to feel warmer and my shivering had stopped. I closed my eyes for a moment. I was so tired.

"Babe."

My lips curved in a small smile, the tender skin splitting as it stretched. Ranger. I could hear him. That was a nice way to end it. I could stand it if it was his voice that followed me into the dark water. I felt myself sway a little on my frozen feet.

"Stephanie!"

That tone made me open my eyes. It was strident and urgent, not the tender caress I'd been hoping for. Everything was blurry, as if my eyes had trouble focusing. I blinked slowly. Well, I meant to blink but my eyes wouldn't open again once they'd slid shut. I swayed again.

"Please, Babe. Look at me."

I had to obey. It was never a question, really, when Ranger said please. I'd probably jump off a cliff for him, so long as he asked nicely. With a monumental effort, I pried open my eyes. What I saw made me come fully awake from the cold-induced stupor into which I'd fallen.

Ranger stood a mere six feet from me, the toes of his boots just meeting the edge of the pier.

I drank in the sight of him. Dressed in his usual black, he'd discarded his coat and stood in his cargo pants and a long-sleeved shirt. He'd removed his gun belt as well. The snow was settling softly on his shoulders and his dark hair, melting as it touched his skin. Well, of course it would. Not even snow would dare to mar the perfection that was Ranger.

"Give me your hand."

I looked down. He had a hand stretched toward me. I hadn't even noticed. I looked at it for a moment and my heart leapt. Unthinkingly, I tried to move my arm and was brought up short when I remembered I couldn't. Dragging my eyes up to his, I sadly shook my head a little, wishing I didn't have the gag in my mouth so I could talk to him. His hand slowly dropped back to his side.

"Your hands are tied, aren't they?" he asked but it wasn't really a question. He knew. I nodded. My head swam with the movement and I closed my eyes, swaying as the world tilted.

"Stephanie!" Ranger barked and my eyes flew open again. Our eyes met, and for the first time ever, I saw what looked like fear in his.

"Stay with me, Babe," he said. "Don't close your eyes. Just keep watching me, okay?"

That was an order I was happy to obey. Nothing was better than watching Ranger, except kissing him. God, I wished I could kiss him one more time. I wished I could just talk to him, tell him I loved him, was in love with him. That he meant everything to me and that yes, he'd ruined me for all other men. I tried to say all this with my eyes, but he was no longer looking at me. He was frantically looking around at the predicament I was in, trying, I knew, to find a way to get me out of it. As usual, Stephanie was in another scrape and had to be rescued. I wondered if he ever got tired of it.

"I'm going to get my truck," Ranger said. "I'll park it on top of the plank and so it'll hold both of us." I struggled to understand this, my mind moving sluggishly. He was going to walk out on the plank to get me.

"Babe." I focused on him. His dark eyes seemed to burn with intensity as he gazed at me. When he was sure he had my attention, he spoke again.

"Don't move," he commanded. "Promise me. Promise me you won't move."

I'd promise him anything, if he'd ever asked. Unfortunately, this was the only time he had. And I was going to have to lie. Because I knew he could never come out on this plank to get me. I knew something he didn't – there was a bomb underneath my feet. If he moved me to try and save me, the bomb would trigger.

The choice which had seemed so hard to make earlier was now an easy one. There was absolutely no way I was going to let Ranger be hurt, especially when I could prevent it. He was an amazing man, risking his own life over and over again, and so many times on my behalf. Tears leaked from my eyes again as I realized this was it, this was the last time I'd see Ranger. I searched his face, memorizing its contours, before returning my gaze to his. I tried to put all the love I felt there for him to see in my eyes. And maybe he saw it because his jaw tightened into steel bands and this time when he spoke, there was a note of desperation in his voice.

"Promise me, Babe."

Shakily, I nodded, anxious now for him to go, for this to be over and done. Once the decision had been made, the only thing left was the act itself.

He tore his gaze from mine and ran for his truck, parked a short way down the pier. I took one last look at his retreating form.

My eyes slipped close and I stepped backward into nothing but air.

RPOV

The explosion behind me stopped me in my tracks. I spun around in horror, only now realizing what Stephanie had been trying to tell me with her eyes. Goodbye.

Cursing, I ran back to the end of the pier. I skidded to a halt and frantically searched the water below, catching a glimpse of something in the swirling waves. I watched as it disappeared beneath the surface before tearing off my boots and diving headfirst into the churning river.

The icy water hit me like a fist in the gut. I ignored the pain, pulling myself through the water to where I'd last seen her. The current was strong and I could feel panic clawing at the edges of my mind. Steph had been nearly insensible with the cold, I knew there was no way she was going to last long in this water. Especially with her hands tied.

I broke through the surface, dragging a breath deep into my lungs, then dived back under the black water. I wouldn't, couldn't lose her.

The current pulled and pushed at me, like a living thing, fighting my efforts to reach Stephanie. Anger gave me strength and I focused my energy on cutting through the depths. I was forced to surface again for air and I gasped once before submerging again. Pain knifed through me as I thought of the time that had already passed.

The current shoved me aside and I bumped against something. My hand reached out and closed around cloth. With a desperate hope, I kicked toward the surface, pulling my burden along with me.

My head broke through the water and I pulled Stephanie's head up as well. The gag was still in her mouth and I roughly pulled it off. She didn't seem to be breathing.

I swam as quickly as I could for the shore, the current fighting me the whole way. I gritted my teeth in frustration, the seconds ticking painfully by.

I grappled for a handhold in the dirt that lined the river. With a last mighty effort, I heaved myself up, pulling Steph with me. I took a deep breath and started CPR. Her skin was like cold marble, her lips blue. I pressed my mouth to hers in a sick parody of a kiss, breathing into her. My hands moved to her sternum, making her heart beat.

I repeated the motions over and over, losing track of how many I had done. Desperation drove me but her stillness under my hands made a mockery of my efforts.

Then, miracle of miracles, she coughed. I sat up, panting, and watched in overwhelming relief as Stephanie coughed up more water. I gently turned her to the side so she wouldn't choke, and she threw up more water. I pulled the rope off her wrists, noting the deep red welts marking her skin. Fury filled me until I was shaking with the force of it. I would find the bastard that had done this to her and make him regret the day he was born.

When she seemed to have regained her breath, I pulled her limp form into my arms, holding her to my chest. It had almost happened. She'd nearly been taken from me. The sound of her breathing was a balm to my soul.

The icy wind cut through my clothes and I realized I had to get her out of the cold. I heaved myself to my feet and pulled her up into my arms. The climb up the riverbank was one of the longest in my life, the snow now falling with a vengeance, making the ground slick.

A few feet from the top, I saw Tank peering over the edge. When he saw me, he turned and gave a shout behind him. In mere moments, Tank and Lester were helping me up the slope. Lester tried to take Stephanie from me but I growled a warning and he retreated.

Someone had the back door open on a Rangeman SUV and I carefully placed Stephanie inside before climbing in after her. I settled her head on my lap, gratefully accepting the blankets that were handed to me.

"Knife," I barked out and one was placed in my hand. With quick, efficient movements, I sliced through her clothes, pulling the dripping wet garments off her and tossing them out the window. Tank slid behind the driver's seat and started the car, turning the heat up full blast. I wrapped Stephanie in the blankets. She had begun to shiver, which was a good thing. I wanted to hold her but knew my clothes would only make her wet again. I consoled myself with touching her hair, my fingers sliding through the tangled curls.

"What the fuck happened?" Tank asked from the front seat, glancing in the rearview mirror as he drove.

"Tessler had tied her up and left her at the end of the pier," I explained. "She was booby trapped. I turned my back for a second and heard an explosion. When I turned around, she was in the water."

"What set off the trap?"

It took me a moment to answer, forcing the words past the pain in my chest.

"She did."

"What?" Tank was incredulous. "What the fuck would she do that for?"

"I think...she was trying to save me." My voice was like gravel.

"Holy shit," Tank breathed. He didn't ask any more questions after that which was a good thing because I didn't have any more answers.

I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, exhaustion overtaking me, though my hand remained in Stephanie's hair.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

**RPOV**

We got back to Rangeman and I carried Stephanie up to my apartment. Laying her on my bed, I told Tank to get Ella. When he left, I stripped off my wet clothes and threw on some sweatpants. I didn't bother with a shirt – I was just going to get wet again anyway.

When Ella arrived, I had her sit with the still-unconscious Stephanie while I filled my bathtub with warm water.

"Can you make some soup or something and leave it on the stove?" I asked Ella, who quickly agreed and left to do as I'd asked, her face creased with worry.

Carefully unwrapping Stephanie from the blankets in which she was shrouded, I picked her up and carried her to the tub. I was still worried about her temperature since I had no idea how long she'd been standing in the sleet and snow before I'd arrived. Slowly, I lowered her into the bathwater, easing my knees down to the tile floor so I could support her head above the water. Placing a towel behind her head, I rested her against the back of the tub and was relieved to see that she appeared to be breathing normally and her skin was returning to its normal color.

I took a moment just to look at her. The tender skin of her cheeks and nose was red and raw from the cold, her lips split and cracked. The river had left tracks of dirt on her neck and arms and I automatically grabbed a washcloth and soap. I knew she'd want to be clean. Her continued state of unconsciousness bothered me but no doubt her body needed to heal itself after her ordeal.

As I lathered up the washcloth, my mind again conjured the image of the way Stephanie had looked at me right before she'd set off the bomb. I don't know if I'd ever forget it, and that bothered me. She had no right to do something like that, to try and sacrifice herself for me. It was supposed to be the other way around.

Don't get me wrong, I have no aspirations of martyrdom. It's just that I knew what the order of things should be and someone like me should never be chosen over someone like Stephanie. It should never have come to that.

The relationship between Stephanie and me was a simple one, or so I had thought. She was a colleague and even friend, though there were only a handful of people whom I would label the term. There had been a chemistry between us from the beginning, tantalizing and tempting me. The closest description I had that could even begin to describe Stephanie's impact on my life was that she was like a spring storm. Catching me unawares, she'd thrust herself into my life with all the fanfare and commotion of thunder and lightning. Only later had I also been able to see how everything looked new, and better, for her being there.

I hadn't been able to resist, in the end. I'd had to have her. I'd told myself it would be just the once – once would be enough to get her out of my system so I could stop thinking about how she would taste, how her body would feel under me, around me.

I had miscalculated. Badly. What was supposed to be just sex had turned into something more. I could see it in her eyes before I left that morning. But I pretended I hadn't. And life had gone on, as it always does. She'd gone back to Morelli and I'd compartmentalized that night into a memory that I didn't think about. Mostly.

But tonight had made liars out of both of us. I've seen that look in a woman's eyes before. I knew what it meant. And I thought most people would say I should be glad of it. But I wasn't.

Gently, I soaped her hands and arms, gliding very softly over the angry marks on her wrists. I washed her neck and shoulders. Dipping below the water, I cleaned her feet and legs. It had been a while since I'd seen her naked and my body was reminding me of that fact. I ignored it since ogling an unconscious woman made me feel like a sick teenager.

Yet my hand rested on her stomach and lingered there before drifting up to her chest. Pressing my fingers lightly between her breasts, I could feel the steady rhythm of her heart beating.

**SPOV**

Waking was agony. Every part of my body hurt. My throat and chest burned. My arms were bruised and felt like leaden weights. The skin on my face was tender and I winced at the dryness of my lips and mouth. A glass of water sounded heavenly.

The last thing I remembered was stepping off that pier, sure I was going to die. Now, I was warm and floating. I had thought I'd never be warm again. Opening my eyes, I saw I was lying in a bathtub. Ranger's bathtub, to be exact. And the man himself was there, kneeling on the floor by me. I watched him hungrily, my eyes greedy for the sight of him. He wasn't wearing a shirt and the golden light of the bathroom played over the muscles of his chest and arms. His eyes were shut, his brow creased like he was in pain. I must have made a noise because his eyes suddenly opened and caught mine.

"Can I have some water?" I managed to croak and he instantly was on his feet, moving to the sink behind him. Glancing down at myself, I was a little surprised to see that I was naked. I know, super observant and clever, aren't I?

I sat up while he was filling a glass, pulling my knees to my chest in some semblance of modesty. Yeah, I know, he'd seen it all and then some, but still. It's not like I was looking my best. And the light in here was less than flattering. Damn fluorescent bulbs. I'd envisioned myself naked with Ranger many, many times. But somehow, a near-death experience had never played a role in those fantasies.

My muscles protested the movement but I gritted my teeth and refused to let out the groan that was threatening to escape. The pain brought the whole horrifying experience back to me and by the time Ranger came back with my water, I was embarrassed at how my hands shook when I took the glass from him.

"Let me," he said, his hand closing over mine as he helped the glass to my lips. I never thought water could taste that good and I drank the whole glass. He took it and set it aside. I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at him.

The water was cooling so Ranger leaned over and turned the knob so more hot water gushed into the tub. I sighed in pleasure and rested my head against my knees, my toes curling as I moved them forward slightly into the new pool of warmth.

My mind was busily demanding my attention, but I didn't want to listen. I knew what had happened, the only thing that could have happened, and guilt ate at me. I'd fallen in the river and Ranger had gone in after me. I hadn't saved him at all. Instead, he'd no doubt nearly died swimming in the freezing waters of the Delaware as he saved me yet again. Apparently, I couldn't even manage to commit suicide correctly.

We didn't speak, the only sound in the room that of the water filling the tub. The tension grew thick, and not in a good way. Finally, judging the water to be the right temperature, Ranger reached over me again and shut off the tap. Now it was really quiet, the pressure to say something becoming enormous. I could feel his gaze on me, and when I finally gathered my courage enough to open my eyes, they met his and I flinched a little.

Ranger's face was always difficult to read, but over the years I liked to think I'd become somewhat adept at it. His eyes held a tenderness that belied the set of his jaw, which bespoke anger. I wondered if he was mad that I'd jumped or that I'd gotten myself in a situation like that at all. Maybe he was angry at constantly risking his life for a woman who barely had two nickels to her name and made a laughingstock of herself on a regular basis.

The thought occurred to me that I should probably thank him, again, though I honestly didn't know if I was actually thankful. It's not that I'm suicidal, but for a brief moment my life, and death, had had a purpose – to save Ranger. It was the one thing I had to give him. He didn't want anything else. Well, maybe my body, but that was it.

"Why did you save me?" I rasped, wincing at how the words scraped against my raw throat. Ranger looked at me for a moment, his lips turning down into a slight frown. Of confusion or disapproval, I couldn't tell.

"Why wouldn't I?" he finally answered.

Well, I could certainly give him a list.

"You weren't supposed to," I said, shaking my head. "I didn't mean for both of us to die."

"Just you," he said, his voice hard. My eyes met his and I nodded.

"Better me than you," I said simply and perhaps he saw the naked truth in my gaze for his jaw tightened again and now his eyes flashed in anger.

"Fuck that," he bit out. "What happened tonight is never going to happen again."

"What are you talking about?" I was confused. "What's never going to happen again?" He shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about this right now," he said in a tone that left no room for argument. "You need to rest, recover. We'll talk later."

With that, he reached under the water to pull the plug. I don't know why, but I instinctively drew back, away from him. He might have noticed, his hand pausing infinitesimally as he moved, but he didn't say anything.

It seemed that, once again, something had shifted in our relationship. My subconscious knew it even if my mind was in utter denial. The one thing I hadn't counted on was Ranger saving the day. I'd been content to let my last act be the only thing that could ever show, without a shadow of a doubt, how much I loved him. But I wasn't dead. And now he knew.

I felt incredibly vulnerable and fragile, like spun glass that would shatter at the slightest touch. The other shoe had yet to drop and I was on pins and needles, waiting for it. I was sure that, when it did, it would break me.

Ranger stood and grabbed one of his luxurious towels that were so large I could wrap one around me twice. Opening it, he tossed it over his shoulder and crouched back down to help me stand. I didn't want to. I already felt as if my emotions were laid bare for him to see and being naked on top of it made me feel utterly defenseless. I shook my head and ignored his proffered hand.

"I can do it," I said, not moving. I didn't risk looking up at him.

Ranger didn't even respond and I thought he was going to accept my refusal, but then he grabbed me unceremoniously by the waist and hauled me up and out of the tub until I stood on the tile floor in front of him. I wanted to squawk in protest, but I'd immediately started shivering again, my teeth knocking together.

Cold. So cold. I was thrust forcefully back into my living nightmare of standing on the edge of the pier, waiting to die. My knees buckled.

Ranger growled a curse, catching me before I could hit the floor and quickly wrapping me in the towel. Lifting me in his arms, he carried me out to the bed. Climbing in next to me, he yanked the blankets up over us and pulled me to him.

He was gloriously warm and my shivering finally eased. We didn't talk. I closed my eyes and savored being in his arms, something I'd thought I'd never feel again. My mind replayed what he'd said before and I tried to figure out what he'd meant. Did he want me to quit my job?

"Are you hungry?" he asked, his voice quiet in the dark. I shook my head, then belatedly realized he couldn't see me.

"No," I replied. "Just tired." I didn't think I could keep anything down if I ate now anyway. My stomach was in knots as I tried to ascertain just how badly I'd messed up my relationship with Ranger. I wanted to cry but didn't dare.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of Bulgari on Ranger and his sheets. Mixed with his own scent, it was a powerful aphrodisiac and I again committed it to memory.

The part of me that had so desperately wanted to tell Ranger that I loved him was still fighting to get out and I had to bite my lip to suppress it. Without a doubt, I knew it would be the last thing he would want to hear. Men like Ranger lived by their own rules. Anything or anyone that would attempt to hold him or keep him would be cut from his life.

Wait. I would just wait and see where we would go from here. I wasn't that good at waiting, but I had a lot riding on this.

With that last thought in mind, I drifted to sleep, exhausted.

In my sleep, I dreamed. I dreamt that Ranger was talking to me, whispering that he loved me and would never let me go. That I was all he ever wanted or would ever want. Tears leaked from my eyes and I tried to hold him to me, tried to move my lips to tell him how much I loved him. But as hard as I tried, I couldn't make my voice work and no sound emerged from my lips. It upset me, causing me to struggle from the confines of sleep into wakefulness.

I came awake with a start and lay still on the bed. It seemed late. Everything was dark and quiet. I could feel Ranger's presence beside me and I tried to not move, thinking he was probably asleep.

I'd moved while I slept and now I noticed that the towel had come undone from around me. I debated what to do, if I should get up and risk waking Ranger to put some clothes on or just roll over and go back to sleep. I knew what I should do, but that was a far cry from what I wanted to do. I yearned to just curl up against Ranger, his skin against mine, and let whatever might happen…happen. It had been too long since we'd made love and my heart was yearning for him in a way that caused me physical pain.

Ignoring my trepidations that this might not be a good idea, there was that woeful lack of self-preservation again, I eased back against Ranger so we were spoon-fashion back to front. My eyes slipped closed and I sighed contentedly as I drifted back to sleep.

When I woke again, it was to see that I'd flipped in my sleep so now I was pressed against Ranger's side, his arm underneath me which held me close. My lips curved in a sleepy smile as I slid my arm across his abdomen, my breasts pressing against him. When I opened my eyes, it was to find him staring at me with an intensity that made my breath catch. I felt his hand curl into a fist against my back.

I couldn't help myself. My heart was his, and though I couldn't tell him with my words, I could tell him with my body.

Stretching upwards, I settled my lips softly on his. My hand cupped the curve of his jaw, the stubble on his skin scraping against the pads of my fingers. My lips moved against his and suddenly he was kissing me back hungrily, his tongue sliding against mine. God, I'd forgotten what he could do to me when he kissed me like that.

What had begun gently now quickly escalated into a heated frenzy, our lips and teeth colliding in passion. I was panting for air when Ranger rolled me onto my back as he lay on top of me, pressing me down into the mattress. His mouth moved down my body, his lips and tongue tracing a path to my breasts then further down my stomach. There was nothing tender or gentle about him as he pushed my legs apart and buried his face between them.

In moments, Ranger had me crying out, my hands fisting the sheets as stars exploded behind my eyes. Before the spasms inside me had even stopped, he had shoved his pants down and was pushing inside me, his mouth finding mine again. I could taste myself on his tongue and my nails dug into his back. He swallowed my cries as he thrust into me, placing a hand under my knee and lifting my leg up to wrap around him. He was powerful and primal, and I gloried in it even as it overwhelmed me. And then I couldn't even think, all I could do was feel as he pushed me over the edge again. The force of it caused tears to leak from my eyes.

His hard length was still pounding into me and his tongue mimicked the movement, thrusting into my mouth and claiming me. Then he was shuddering in my arms, his hand pressing into my thigh hard enough to leave marks.

Ranger tore his mouth from mine, tucking his head into the crook between my neck and shoulder. I could feel the heat from his breath against my skin. His shoulders rose and fell beneath my hands as he struggled to control his breathing. He was still buried inside me and I savored the feeling of our bodies joined together.

Finally, Ranger lifted his head and looked at me. A small smile curved my lips. Everything was going to be fine. Ranger knew I loved him and this was him showing me he loved me, too. Relief flooded me as I gazed in his beautiful, dark eyes. He didn't smile back, but instead leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead. Then he pulled away, stepping out of the bed and pulling his pants back up. I watched as he disappeared into the bathroom.

**RPOV**

I stood under the hot spray in the shower and tried not to regret what had just happened. My restraint was dangerously low when it came to Stephanie, even after she'd nearly died. Maybe even more so because of that. My need to reaffirm her continued presence among the living had gone too far. I hadn't even been gentle with her. All I'd been able to feel was her warm body pressed against me, alive and sweetly curved and mine.

But I knew better. That look was back in her eyes. The same one I'd seen on the pier. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the shower wall.

There was no good or easy way out of this.

I wondered what had happened with Steph and Morelli. He'd been my shield for a long time. He was the marrying kind, and though I'd toyed with her throughout her relationship with Morelli, in the end I'd assumed she'd eventually end up with him. That was the only way this story could end. I hadn't foreseen this. I resolved to call Morelli today and get to the bottom of what was going on between him and Steph.

When I got out of the shower and stepped back into the bedroom, Stephanie had fallen back to sleep. It was a little after nine in the morning so I got dressed and headed downstairs to my office. I met Ella on the way and told her to make sure she took some food to Stephanie later for when she woke up.

I shut my office door and sat in the leather chair behind my desk. Picking up my cell, I dialed Morelli and waited. The phone rang several times, then went to voice mail. Frowning, I hung up and dialed again. This time he answered.

"What do you want, Ranger?" Morelli's voice was curt and just this side of rude. I was a little taken aback. Our relationship hadn't ever been amicable, but neither had he been outwardly hostile. I chose my words carefully.

"I was calling about you and Stephanie-," I began, but he cut me off.

"Fuck you." And the line went dead. Now that pissed me off. I was on my feet and striding out to the control room.

"Anyone have a twenty on Morelli?" I barked out. I wanted to know where he was and I wanted to know now. After a scurry of activity, Hal spoke up.

"Lester and Max said they saw him over on Church and 5th about half hour ago," he said. "Drug bust." I nodded shortly and headed to the garage.

In minutes, I was parking behind three cop cars and Morelli's SUV. The uniforms were leading some teenagers in handcuffs to the cars and I spotted Morelli talking with another detective. Morelli's back was to me, and as I headed his way, the detective noticed me and said something to him. Turning, Morelli spotted me, his face hardening into a mask of fury. But he didn't walk away, he just waited for me. I stopped when I was a couple of feet from him. The detective swung his gaze nervously between the two of us before hurriedly backing off. I didn't blame him. Morelli looked murderous.

"I didn't get to finish my sentence, Morelli," I said flatly. I didn't want to provoke him, but neither was I going to let him think hanging up on me was an option.

"Well, it must be pretty damn good for you to hunt me down," he replied. His voice was controlled despite the anger I saw in his eyes. I considered my words.

"Stephanie almost died last night," I said, watching him carefully for his reaction. He seemed to stop breathing for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise, then his countenance became grim.

"You said 'almost.' Does that mean she's okay?" I nodded. Relief eased the worried crease of his brow.

"I thought you might want me to bring her by, have her stay with you," I offered. "She shouldn't be alone for a few days." At that, the fury was back, and something else, bitterness and despair.

"She didn't tell you, did she?" he asked. At my blank look, he gave a short, bitter laugh. "Figures. She won't even admit it to herself, much less to you."

I waited.

"She's in love with you, Ranger," he spat out. "Not me. You. And I wasn't going to continue being the consolation prize for her. Stephanie and I are through."

"She loves you-," I began, but he cut me off.

"Not as much as she loves you." He regarded me for a moment, watching as I absorbed this information. An understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes.

"You know, don't you," he said, and it wasn't a question. "You know and you don't care." He laughed again but it was abruptly caught off as his eyes narrowed at me. Morelli moved a little closer, pushing his face close to mine.

"You're a cold son of a bitch, Ranger," he hissed. "All this time, chasing Stephanie, and now that she's made her choice – you don't want her." When I didn't answer, he backed away, looking me up and down with disgust in his eyes.

"Fucking asshole," he muttered, before walking away. I let him go and watched as he climbed in his car and drove away.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

**SPOV**

The next time I woke, I was still sore, but in all the right places. Stretching my arms, I realized the bed was empty save for me. I cracked my eyes and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was after two in the afternoon, no wonder Ranger wasn't here. He was probably downstairs working.

Sliding gingerly out of bed, I headed for the bathroom. Nature was calling in a serious way.

After easing the pressure in my bladder, I decided another shower was in order. Ranger's water pressure was amazing and it eased the aches and pains from last night. I couldn't help a stupid grin from spreading on my face whenever I thought of last night, or really, this morning. I had been so afraid Ranger was going to reject me, reject us. But not only had he risked his life for me, he'd made love to me again.

I used his soap, inhaling the scent greedily. God, I was pathetic.

I wondered what would change between Ranger and me, now that we were together in the whole "couple" sense of the word. It would be really nice to spend more time with him, time that didn't involve either of us in mortal danger. For the first time in a long time, I was looking forward to being a girlfriend in a way I never had with Joe. I realized that I'd just been waiting for the right man, and it had been Ranger all along.

I threw on the robe I knew Ranger never wore and wandered into the kitchen. I could tell Ella had been there because she'd left a big pot of homemade chicken noodle soup on the stove. Grabbing a bowl, I heated some in the microwave and plunked down on a stool at the breakfast bar. Unsurprisingly, the soup was amazing and I filled my bowl again.

After I ate, I debated if I should go home. It sounded much more appealing to wait here for Ranger when he came up. Surely, if he'd wanted me to go home, he'd have said something? I decided to wait a little while. Curling up on his sofa with a blanket, I flipped on the flat screen plasma TV and watched Judge Judy. If I didn't know better, I'd swear Judge Judy was from Jersey.

A couple hours later, the front door opened and I sat up hopefully. But as I peeked over the back of the couch, I saw it was Ella with dinner.

"Hi, Ella," I greeted her. Glancing over, she saw it was me and her face widened in a smile.

"Stephanie!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad to see you are feeling better!"

"I am, thanks," I said, "The soup was amazing."

"You're welcome. I brought Ranger and you some dinner," she said, taking the casserole dish she was carrying to the stove and putting it in the oven. "Just let it stay warm in there until it's time to eat."

"It smells delicious," I said truthfully. "I can't wait."

"Did you need anything else?" she asked, and I shook my head.

"I'm fine, thanks again." With that, she gave me a parting smile and left, pulling the door shut behind her.

The clock said it was nearly six thirty, Ranger should be up any time. Thinking about it, I suddenly had an idea. I jumped up and hurried to the bedroom.

I'd remembered a scene from that movie, _Pretty Woman_, where Julia Roberts had been waiting for Richard Gere when he came home from work. She'd been wearing nothing but heels and his tie. That sounded like an excellent way to greet Ranger.

Going through his closet, I found a few ties. All of them black, of course. Unfortunately, I did not have a pair of CFM shoes at Ranger's. I chewed my lip indecisively. Okay, well maybe I could go without the shoes though I decided to compensate with a tiny g-string I found in my little area of the closet.

I found some of my makeup I'd left here in the bathroom and was able to tame my hair into a sexy disarray of curls rather than a frizzy mess. After tying on the tie and slipping into the always-uncomfortable g-string, I thought the effect was one that Ranger would appreciate.

Surveying the apartment, I decided to pose on the recliner that sat catty corner to the door. That way, I wouldn't have my back to him when he came in and I'd be comfortable while I waited. Unfortunately, the recliner was leather. Leather and bare skin was never sexy. I could just hear the squeaking and peeling sound of my getting out of that chair. Hmm. Well, if I threw a blanket over it that ought to take care of the problem. Ah, the logistics of trying to be sexy. A nervous giggle escaped. I couldn't believe I was actually a little nervous as I anticipated his arrival.

I grabbed a blanket and spent the next fifteen minutes figuring out which pose looked best. You know, you're your own worst critic and I just couldn't make all the parts look good at the same time. Then I decided less lighting would help so I had to jump up and turn off the lamp nearest me and turn on one closer to the kitchen. I arranged myself again and was satisfied with the result. Now it was time to wait.

I waited. Then I waited some more. I counted the squares of tile on the kitchen floor – those that I could see, anyway – twice.

I huffed impatiently, craning my neck to see the clock. It was after eight. Where was he? I was getting a little worried.

Heaving myself out of the chair, I went back to the bedroom, throwing the tie and g-string on the bed and putting on a Rangeman t-shirt and pants. Maybe I'd get to salvage the naked-wearing-just-a-tie idea if I knew when he was coming up. Digging deep in the closet, I found some worn Keds I must have left here at some point and I shoved my feet into them.

Stepping onto the elevator, I hit the button for the fifth floor.

**Tank's POV**

Ranger hadn't come out of his office since he'd gotten back from taking off to find Morelli. He'd come back, gone inside, shut the door, and no one had heard a peep from him since.

It was after eight now and the floor was dark and quiet. Only Hal remained, on monitoring duty for the night shift. I had stuck around because I was worried about Ranger. Maybe Steph wasn't okay after last night. Though I knew Ranger would have taken her to the hospital if there was something seriously wrong with her.

Standing in front of his office door, I hesitated. Ranger was a private man, we all were. And we respected each other's privacy. But I'd known him the longest, and I thought if he needed to talk, I might be one of the few people he'd talk to.

Raising my fist, I rapped on the door and waited. After a moment, I heard him call out for me to come in.

Opening the door, I was surprised to see that it was completely dark in his office. The only light came from the window that looked out onto the city. Squinting a little, I could see him now, a dark shadow against the glass as he stood in front of the window, staring outside.

"Ranger?" I asked. "What are you doin', man?" Stepping into the office, I flipped the light switch on the wall. Ranger didn't react at all, still staring out the window, arms crossed over his chest. I walked a little closer and I could see our reflections in the window. He seemed to be looking at nothing.

"What's goin' on?" I asked more forcefully. "Is Steph all right?" Finally, that got a reaction.

Turning towards me, he said, "Yeah, she's okay." I let out a little huff of air, a bit embarrassed at how relieved I was. I liked Steph; we all did.

"Then why are you in standing here in the dark?" I asked. Ranger just shook his head a little, pushing his hand through his hair.

"What happened with Morelli?" I persisted. Something was going on here. Ranger wasn't acting normal.

"Morelli said he and Stephanie were through," Ranger answered. I grinned.

"Finally!" I said. "It's about time!" I'd been waiting for that girl to come to her senses and it looked like maybe she had.

"So now there's nothing stopping you two from…" I hesitated. "You know…" I finished, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid. Ranger's swung his gaze to meet mine, and I frowned at the look on his face.

"She loves you, Ranger," I said. "She nearly died for you last-"

"Don't you think I know that?" he interrupted me, his voice loud in the room. I stepped back a little. Ranger never raised his voice. Ever.

I didn't say anything. After a moment, the fire seemed to leave him and he slumped in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly.

"What's the problem?" I asked carefully. Ranger's hands fell away and now I saw that his eyes were empty and cold.

"I have to end it," he said, his voice flat. I was confused. This made no sense. Ranger had been after Stephanie for years.

"What are you talking about? Why would you want to do a thing like that?"

"It was never supposed to be this way," Ranger answered quietly. "Steph's the kind of woman who wants a ring on her finger and a promise of forever. You know I can't give her that. It's just not in me."

I didn't know what to say.

"Look at me, Tank," Ranger said, frustration evident in his voice. "Can you honestly say you could see me getting married? Settling down?" He was shaking his head even as he said it.

"I don't want that. I never have. And I never thought she'd pick me over Morelli. Not when all was said and done."

In spite of myself, I could feel irritation building up at him and when I spoke again, it was in anger.

"Then why the hell have you been chasin' Steph all this time? What was the point? You just wanted to fuck her?" I saw his fists clench on the table and I instinctively braced myself, but after a moment he seemed to regain control.

"Like it's any of your fucking business, Tank," he growled at me, "but I care about her. I like her. I'm attracted to her. We're fucking amazing in bed together." My eyes narrowed at him.

"You just don't love her," I said.

"Of course I do," he retorted, "just not the way she wants me to. Not the way she loves me. And if I don't end it, she may end up doing more crazy ass shit like she did last night out of some kind of devotion to me. I can't have that on my conscience. I won't. It's over."

I didn't buy it. I'd seen Ranger last night, seen him dive headfirst into a churning river, in the dark and in the snow. And it hadn't been because that was just the way he was. Ranger was heroic, I'd give him that, but he was also pragmatic. He didn't lay his life on the line for just anybody. And he had to have known that there was a miniscule chance of not only rescuing Steph last night, but of he himself making it out alive. The fact that he'd beaten those odds didn't change them.

But looking at Ranger now, I could tell he believed every word he was saying. Whether it was out of some sense of trying to protect Stephanie or whether he even knew why he was saying it, nothing was going to change his mind.

"You're going to hurt her," I said, knowing it was true. A flash of pain flew across his face and then it was gone. He met my gaze unflinchingly.

"I know."

"What will she do, Ranger?" I asked. "She depends on you. For money, transportation, help with skips. You can't just leave her high and dry." And none of that was Stephanie's fault. Ranger had insinuated himself into her life, little by little. I didn't know what she'd do if he took that all away.

"I'll think of something," he said gruffly. Ranger turned his chair toward the window, effectively dismissing me.

With a sigh, I walked out his office door, pulling the door shut behind me. Then very nearly ran right into Stephanie. I stopped short, horrified and praying she hadn't heard. But I could tell immediately that she had.

Her face was bloodless and her eyes were deep blue pools of pain. She seemed frozen in place, her mouth slightly open as if in shock.

"Steph?" I asked cautiously. That seemed to bring her out of her trance. She jerked her head up and I winced at the naked pain written across her face. Steph whispered something but I couldn't understand. I leaned down closer and she repeated it.

"Keys."

I didn't react quickly enough and she said it again, louder and more frantic.

"Keys. I have to get out of here. Please." Pity filled me and I pulled out my set of car keys, handing them to her.

"Thanks," she choked out. Turning, she walked quickly to the stairwell, not bothering to wait for the elevator. I stared after her and hoped she'd be all right. I debated telling Ranger, and finally turned back to his office, opening the door without knocking. He swiveled back around from the window.

"Steph overheard," I said curtly. "She just left." He was on his feet and barreling towards the door in a blur of motion. I didn't move, grabbing his arms and blocking the doorway.

"Stop, Ranger," I ordered, trying to hold him as he fought me. In seconds, he was past me and headed toward the stairs.

"Leave her alone," I called after him. "She don't need you chasing after her now. There's nothin' more to be said." Maybe my words got through to him because he faltered and came to a stop. He slowly turned back toward me.

"I wouldn't have said those things to her," he said, his voice rough. "Not like that."

"I know, but she'd probably rather know the truth than anything sugar-coated." If I knew Stephanie, which I thought I did. Ranger walked past me back into his office, the door slamming shut behind him.

**SPOV**

I couldn't remember later how I'd made it to Tank's car and out of Rangeman. All I could feel was a pain so deep it threatened to tear me in two. Everything I did was out of an instinctual need to get away from it, to hide.

Now I was driving aimlessly, tears coursing down my cheeks. Finally, the road became too blurred to see and I had to pull over. My stomach felt like someone had gut-punched me and I hunched over into the passenger seat, clutching my middle. Sobs tore through me until there weren't any more tears, just relentless pain. I wanted to vomit but there wasn't anything in my stomach and nothing came up but dry heaves.

I felt mortified and the worst kind of fool. All this time, I had thought I was choosing between two men who loved me. As it turned out, only one had loved me, the other had just been playing a game. Ranger's words echoed back at me and I gasped at the fresh pain stabbing at me. He hadn't wanted me; he never had. Not really. Only in the way a child wants another child's plaything.

I thought perhaps I should be angry. Ranger had used me, toyed with me, for his own amusement. But I couldn't be angry yet. I was too heartbroken. I'd loved him, chosen him, had nearly died for him.

The last words between him and Tank replayed themselves in my head now and my humiliation grew even more. What would poor Stephanie do without Ranger making sure she didn't starve or get her electricity turned off or have a car to drive?

All those times he'd helped me, I'd thought he was doing it because he loved me. But it had only been because he'd felt sorry for me, saw me as an obligation. Even now, tonight, when he was going to break it off, he'd still been looking for a way to meet that obligation. God, I wanted to die from the shame.

I had to get out, had to leave. I didn't think I could face seeing him again, knowing what I knew now.

With shaking hands, I put the car back in gear and started driving. In a few minutes, I was at my parents' house, parking Tank's car on the street.

Taking a few deep breaths, I knocked on the front door. A minute or two later, my mom pulled the door open.

"Stephanie!" she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron. "What are you doing here?" She took a closer look at me and her eyes went wide.

"What happened? Are you all right?" Grasping my arm, she pulled me into the house. I flinched under the harsh lights.

"I'll be fine," I said, my voice hoarse from crying. "I just…I wanted to tell you…let you know. I'm leaving town."

"What do you mean 'leaving town?'" Mom pulled me into the dining room, sitting me down on a chair as she sat in the opposite one.

"I need a fresh start," I improvised, praying she'd understand. I didn't want to go into details. I'd already told her that Joe and I had broken up. We'd never really talked much about Ranger, but my mother wasn't stupid.

"Can't you wait a few days?" she asked quietly. "You might feel differently after some time." I shook my head before she was even done speaking.

"I'm going. Now. Tonight. I just wanted grab my purse and say goodbye." Studying me, I could see when she accepted it. She nodded.

"All right. Get your purse. I need to tell your father."

"Where's Grandma?" I asked. Mom rolled her eyes.

"On a date." At my questioning glance, she said, "Don't ask."

I headed upstairs and grabbed my purse, grateful now that I'd left it here before going after Tessler. I had about a hundred dollars in my checking account. I'd empty it on the way out of town. When I came back downstairs, Mom and Dad were both waiting for me.

"Aren't you going by your apartment?" Mom asked, and I shook my head.

"I've got to go." I couldn't explain it to myself, much less to them, the driving need I had to get as far away as possible as quickly as I could. I knew I probably wasn't thinking straight, the panic clawing at my chest whenever I thought of facing Ranger making me frantic. But I couldn't resist the compulsion to run, hide and lick my wounds.

"Here, take this," Dad said. He held out the keys to the car and a thick wad of money. Tears came to my eyes again as I took the items. I hugged him and he grumbled, but I noticed he hugged me back tightly.

Mom was crying now and it made me start crying again, too. We hugged for a long moment, then she kissed my forehead.

"You take care of yourself, you hear me?" she said through her tears. I nodded obediently, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

They walked me to the garage and I climbed in the car. Mom gave me a paper sack full of food she'd hurriedly put together. I handed her Tank's keys.

"Tank will probably be by for these," I said. "His car's out front.

"I'll call you," I promised, buckling myself in the driver's seat.

I eased the blue boat out of the garage and into the street, tearing my eyes away from the sight of my parents staring worriedly after me. Pointing the car towards the south, I started driving.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

**RPOV**

I brooded in my office for a while, for once not knowing what to do next. I would have given a lot for Stephanie to not have heard me speaking so bluntly to Tank. If I'd talked to her, I would have been kinder. Let her know I was still her friend, but that it just wasn't going to happen between us.

I hadn't been lying to Tank – I did love Steph. I wanted to protect her and make sure she wanted for nothing. I would have said she was like a little sister, except for the fact that my body was drawn to hers in a very non-brotherly way. Sex with Stephanie was mind blowing and I craved it like an addict craved his next hit. But control was second nature to me; I could control wanting Steph. Obviously, we couldn't be together like that again. I wasn't that much of a bastard.

Once she had some time, I'd talk to her, explain that I cared about her and apologize for not being what she needed. Then things could go back to the way they were, in some fashion. I'd have to put more distance between us and no more touching or kissing her. I'd been lax in my control over the years and now she was paying the price.

After a while, I rose and went upstairs to my apartment. It seemed as empty as it ever was. As I tossed my keys on the breakfast bar, I noticed a blanket laying over my leather recliner. I paused for a moment. Steph must've been sitting there earlier. Shaking off my sudden melancholy, I headed for the bedroom, stripping off my shirt as I went.

In the bedroom, I found one of my ties and a g-string of Steph's lying on the bed. Bemused, I picked them up. I brought the panties to my face and inhaled. Stephanie's scent lingered on the delicate fabric and I was instantly hard. Understanding dawned and I nearly groaned at the image I'd conjured in my head of Steph wearing nothing but the panties and my tie. She'd been waiting for me.

My stomach clenched and my hand fisted around the cloth. I'd been trying to not think about how much I'd hurt her, but now the guilt tore through me like the blade of a knife. I knew better than anyone that Steph's tough façade was just that – a mask. She hid behind it, the real her much more fragile and soft than she pretended to be. She'd let me in, allowing herself to grow attached and finally had laid everything she felt for me on the line. And what had I done? I'd rejected her.

I didn't think I'd made the wrong decision, I just regretted it had come to that. I'd severely underestimated Steph's feelings for me, believing all this time that her true devotion lay with Morelli. If I had known she was falling in love with me, I would've drawn back a long time ago.

My hand itched to reach for my cell phone, to call her, make sure she was okay. I repressed the urge. Tank had been right. I was the last person Stephanie would want to talk to right now. Maybe she'd realize her and Morelli belonged together. He could give her everything I couldn't. A ring, white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a minivan in the garage.

I shook my head at the thought. Yes, I'd done the right thing. Eventually, Steph would see that.

I shucked the rest of my clothes and climbed into bed. The scent of Stephanie and our love making drifted up from the sheets, catching me unprepared. A hard knot formed in my chest, and for a moment, I found it difficult to breathe. I quickly turned over, away from the scent and the memory. It was a long time before I slept.

I came awake quickly, my gun appearing in my hand before I'd even registered that I'd reached for it. I pointed it at the door and saw Tank put his hands in the air.

"Woah, boss," he said. "It's me. You didn't answer your phone." I dropped my arm and sat up, rubbing a hand over my eyes. Tank cautiously lowered his arms.

"What's going on?" I rasped. Tank wouldn't be in my apartment if not for a very good reason.

"We got a fire alarm," he said. My head jerked up. "At Steph's place."

I was up and moving, grabbing pants and a shirt from my closet and jerking them on.

"When?" I barked, quickly lacing up my boots.

"About ten minutes ago," he answered. I glanced at my watch. It was about five thirty in the morning.

Grabbing my cell phone, I hit a couple buttons and waited. Voice mail.

"Fuck!" Steph wasn't answering her phone. "Let's go," I said grimly.

We got there ten minutes later and I saw several other Rangeman employees in the parking lot, staring up at the building. My jaw clenched as I saw the blazing inferno that had been Stephanie's apartment building. The acrid smell of the smoke burned my nostrils and I could feel the heat of the blaze from where I stood.

Fire crews were frantically rushing about, hoses aimed at the flames. Four ambulances sat in the parking lot, the EMTs giving oxygen to several of the older residents. I headed toward Lester who was standing with a cop.

"What happened?" I asked. Lester glanced over his shoulder at me before returning his gaze to the fire. It was the cop who answered.

"An explosion," he said. "We think the apartment may have been rigged to blow. The fire investigators will know more once the fire's out." I swallowed hard and pushed the next words past my suddenly dry throat.

"Anyone hurt?"

"Almost everyone got out okay," he replied. "Good thing older people are light sleepers." My gut clenched.

"Almost everyone?" Please, God, not Steph. The cop looked at me a little sadly and my heartbeat seemed to stutter.

"We don't think the resident made it out alive," he said quietly. My knees wanted to buckle and it was only by sheer force of will that I remained standing. Fury and desperation filled me and I rushed over to Tank, grabbing him by the front of his shirt.

"Where'd she go?" I demanded through gritted teeth, shoving my face into his. "You said she left Rangeman. Where'd she go?"

"She took my car to her parents," he answered quickly, his eyes betraying his fear at my behavior. I ignored it. "They must have brought her home."

"No," I said, releasing him with a shove. "No. You're wrong. Steph's not up there." She couldn't be. She just…no. I refused to believe it. But if she was…

I didn't realize I was moving until two of my men tackled me, shoving me to the ground feet from the burning building.

"What the fuck, Ranger?!" one of them exclaimed, I didn't bother looking to see who it was. "You can't go in there!" I fought them blindly, my eyes on the building. I had to save her.

"Ranger!" Tank was in front of me now, shouting at me. I looked past him, straining frantically against the arms holding me. "Ranger!" My eyes finally focused on his.

"It's too late, man," he said softly.

My face creased in pain as I realized the truth of his words. I was too late to save her. The arms holding me gradually loosened and let go. I allowed Tank to pull me back, away from the deadly fire.

Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket with hands that shook, I tried to call Steph again. Once more, it went to voice mail. I tried yet again with the same result. This time, I left a message.

"Babe," I said, "it's me. Please…just call me. Call Tank. Anybody. I need to know you're all right. Please." My voice faltered and I managed to choke out, "I'm sorry, Babe," before flipping the phone closed.

None of us left. We watched the firemen as they gradually got the flames under control and put them out. I compulsively dialed Steph's cell over and over, unable to stop. Each time it went to voice mail, another place inside of me seemed to go cold.

It was hours later when the fire was finally out and the sun had risen. A worn and smoke stained fireman came down the stairs and I watched as he spoke with an EMT who nodded before disappearing into the ambulance. When he emerged, he handed the fireman a black body bag who took it upstairs with him. I froze in horror.

Two firemen appeared, carrying a body bag that was no longer empty. The crowd in the parking lot grew silent as we all watched them place the bag in a waiting ambulance which drove away, its sirens silent. The cop who had spoken to me earlier now walked over to us.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you that the resident," he consulted a small notepad in his hand, "Stephanie Plum, perished in the fire. We'll confirm the identity with dental records, the body's too badly burned for prints, but the medical examiner can tell it was a woman." He paused for a moment. "I'm real sorry." His eyes lingered on the group of us before he turned and walked away.

I staggered backward before turning away from the building and heaving. I was mortified, but I couldn't control my body and my stomach convulsed in agony. Finally, it stopped and I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. Turning back around, I saw my men were discreetly ignoring me. Walking back toward them, I saw all of them had varying degrees of grief lining their faces. They'd all been fond of her. Some who'd known her well had suspiciously bright eyes.

"You arrogant fuck!" The furious voice caused me to spin around in time to see Morelli's fist flying toward my face. It landed on my right cheek and pain exploded in my face and eye.

"You were supposed to protect her!" he yelled at me, taking another two shots which landed in my gut and jaw. I grunted in pain, unable or unwilling to protect myself. I welcomed the physical punishment. It was no less than I deserved.

Two of my men jumped in, pulling him off me. My hand reached up to my cheek, coming away bloody.

"She's dead because of you!" Morelli spat at me. He'd stopped struggling to reach me and jerked his arms free. His eyes ran over me with contempt and loathing. "I bet you're glad she's dead, right Ranger?" he jeered. "Now you're finally free of her."

Rage consumed me and I launched myself at him. We fought each other fiercely, grappling for the upper hand on the gravel of the lot. My men didn't interfere this time. I guess they figured so long as I was not just the recipient, I was on my own.

I had Morelli by the collar, my hand cocked back, ready to fly, when I suddenly stopped. What was I doing? Stephanie had cared about Morelli. She'd have hated seeing us fight. I abruptly dropped him. Glaring at me with hatred, he spat a mouthful of blood on the ground before walking away.

Tank appeared at my elbow, watching Morelli leave.

"I talked to the fire chief while you were…busy," he said. "Her apartment was booby trapped. C4 hooked to a trigger. Probably a lamp or something. The door had been rigged so she couldn't get out once she went in."

Tessler.

I had rarely felt the kind of cold rage that now consumed me. I would find him and I would hurt him. Hurt him so bad, he'd beg me to kill him. And he would die, ever so slowly.

My imagination drew the picture of Stephanie coming home last night, upset and maybe crying. Going into her apartment, she would have tossed her purse and keys down, then reached to flip on the lamp.

My eyes stung and I squeezed them tightly shut.

I prayed the explosion had killed her outright. The thought of Stephanie slowly burning to death, her lungs filling with smoke as she struggled to open the apartment door, made me think I was going to vomit again. I swallowed heavily before I spoke.

"Find Tessler."

**SPOV**

I drove for days, not really paying any attention to where I was going. I'd cried until I had no more tears to cry and now was just sort of numb.

That first day had been the worst. My cell had rung, early in the morning, startling me. I'd watched the phone as its display glowed in the dark on the seat next to me, the Batman theme song filling the car and "Ranger" flashing on the screen. I'd clutched the steering wheel tightly, refusing to pick up the phone as I longed to do. I wanted desperately to hear his voice again, hear him call me "Babe" in that throaty growl.

When it stopped ringing, I breathed a sigh of relief that was short-lived when it rang again fifteen minutes later. Jerking to an abrupt stop on the side of whatever road I was on, I rolled down the window and threw the phone as far as I could, then hit the gas before I could change my mind.

Somewhere along the way, I decided I wanted to be warm. The cold now filled me with fear and grief. I wondered how long it would be before I'd be able to overcome that night on the pier. So I drove south, stopping at a Wal-Mart along the way for some cheap summer clothes, sunglasses, and flip flops.

I tried to eat, but my stomach couldn't handle more than a few bites of anything. When I got too exhausted to drive, I stopped at cheap motels. But my dreams were filled with Ranger and I ended up waking feeling more tired than when I'd gone to sleep. Dark circles were now etched under my eyes and I was glad I'd gotten really large sunglasses that hid them.

My head cleared as the miles flew by and I didn't regret my sudden decision to leave Trenton. There was nothing there for me now except a failed relationship with Joe, an unsuccessful career as a bounty hunter, and a mortifying history with Ranger. I loved my parents and Grandma Mazur, but I'd been right – it was time for a new beginning in my life. I remembered as a kid we'd call Do-Overs when we were playing a game and something didn't go right. I was calling a Do-Over for my life.

The further south I drove, the brighter and warmer the sun grew and it seemed to soothe my battered soul. Four days after I left Trenton, my road literally ran out, ending in front of a wooden fence. I could go left or right only. After a brief moment of indecision, I turned the car left.

The sun was slipping toward the horizon as I drove, following the winding road until what I saw made me pull over.

I got out of the car and crossed the street, my eyes glued to the ocean in front of me. I walked until I stood on a concrete platform overlooking a straight drop down to the water. Next to me was a large, blunt marker, kind of like a giant buoy, embedded in the concrete. Maybe eight feet tall, it was red, black and yellow and printed on it were the words:

_90 miles to Cuba_

_Southernmost Point_

_Continental U.S.A. _

_Key West, FL_

At the bottom was written in flowing script, "Home of the Sunset."

And I felt like I could breathe again.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

**RPOV**

Tank drove a few of us back to Rangeman. No one spoke on the way, the car eerily silent. I couldn't seem to think, couldn't process my new reality – a reality without Stephanie.

Tank parked and we rode the elevator up. The men got out on the fifth floor, Tank included.

"I'll be upstairs," I told him. "Call me when you find something on Tessler."

"I'm on it," he said as the elevator doors slid shut.

When I got to my floor, Ella was waiting. She was pretending to straighten the apartment, but I knew why she was really there. As the door clicked shut behind me, she jerked around, her eyes hopeful. I answered her unspoken question, forcing the words out.

"Stephanie's dead." It was the first time I'd said the sentence out loud, and the finality of it nearly brought me to my knees. Ella's hands flew to cover her mouth as she started crying.

"Dios mío, no! No Stephanie!" She rushed to the door, a babble of incoherent words pouring from her. The door slammed shut and I was alone.

I stood in the kitchen, staring at nothing.

Death was not unknown to me. It had been a constant companion in my life. I'd tricked Death, cheated it, occasionally flirted with it, and even delivered it to some unlucky souls. Friends and colleagues had succumbed to Death's embrace over the years, and I had come to terms with that. Death was as unavoidable as life itself, and inevitable. But somehow I'd always assumed that I would be there for Stephanie, to save her or take her place, should Death come calling. Now, Death was laughing at me and I was left wondering how to go on.

It seemed wrong. Why should I still be here when she wasn't? How was I to continue on in my life, as if the very fabric of my existence hadn't gone up in smoke the same way her apartment had today? The very fact that my heart was still beating, my lungs still drawing air, seemed unnatural and offensive to me.

On auto-pilot, I moved to a cabinet, opening it and digging deep inside until I found what I was searching for. Grabbing the bottle of bourbon, I unscrewed the lid and took a deep swallow. The liquid burned my throat, heating my stomach when it hit. Walking to the window, I took another drag on the bottle.

My clothes were rank with smoke, but to get to the bathroom, I'd have to go through the bedroom. I'd have to pass by the bed where a little over twenty-four hours ago, I'd made love to Stephanie for the last time.

More liquid fire poured down my throat.

I kept hearing her screams in my head, the screams that she'd no doubt made as the smoke and fire took her life. I wondered if she'd called my name, hoping I would save her. But I never came.

This time as I drank, I noticed absently that my eyes were wet. I didn't bother to try to stop the tears. No one was here to see.

Leaning forward, I rested my head and palm against the cold glass of the window. Digging in my memory, I tried to remember what had been the last words I'd said to her. I'd asked if she was hungry. That was it. I hadn't spoken to her while we'd made love, and I hadn't said anything afterwards. I'd just gotten up and left her there, alone in the bed.

It was hard to breathe, the pain in my chest made each intake of air a choked gasp. Pushing back from the window, I swallowed until the bottle was empty. I couldn't help thinking of how Stephanie would have teased me for imbibing something so unhealthy, had she been here. She'd have said something funny about the "sanctity" of my body. I would've held in a grin and looked at her the way that always made her cheeks flush and her eyes widen.

The bottle flew from my hand, crashing against the wall and shattering. This time when my legs buckled, I didn't fight it, falling to my knees on the floor. I buried my head in my hands as I wept.

I woke hours later after having passed out on the floor. Glancing at my watch out of habit, I saw it was the middle of the night. For a moment, I couldn't understand why I was here on the floor instead of the bed. Then memory returned with a vengeance, and I had to clench my fists and grit my teeth to not cry out from the pain of it.

I hauled myself up to my feet, body protesting the abuse I'd just heaped on it. Ignoring the discomfort, I lurched to the elevator, punching the button for the gym.

No one was down there at this time of night, which suited me fine. I stripped off my shirt, tossing it in the trash. Mindlessly, I went through my usual workout routine. Stretching, weights, boxing, then a run on the treadmill. I tried not to think, emptying my mind the best I could. I ran hard and fast, hoping I could outdistance the pain.

Finally, my body would not be pushed further and I fell to the mat, landing on all fours, my breathing ragged. I stayed like that for a few minutes until I could breathe normally. Picking myself up, I made my way to the locker room. I showered and threw on some Rangeman workout pants and a t-shirt. As I walked back through the workout room, something caught my eye and I drifted toward it.

My reflection stared back at me from the mirrors lining one wall.

In that moment, as I stared into my own eyes, I knew what I'd really been running from - the overwhelming regret for what I'd done to Stephanie, the things she'd heard me say. I'd turned away her love for me, denied us the chance to be together. I'd made her last night alive a living hell, and I had no one to blame but myself.

Then the thought I'd been avoiding the most pushed itself forward, demanding to be heard.

If I hadn't rejected her, hadn't been such a fucking idiot, too consumed with my own selfishness to see what a gift she'd offered me, Stephanie would still be alive. She wouldn't have gone home; she'd have stayed here, with me. And when she did go home, I would've been with her. I could've spotted the trap, or failing that, could have saved her.

I had done this. And there was no hiding from that stark fact.

A cry of fury and self-loathing left my lips, and I struck out, glass shattering under my fists. But it wasn't enough, I could still see my reflection in the wall. Grabbing an iron bar empty of weights, I smashed it against the glass, over and over, until nothing was left but an empty wall and a million shards at my feet.

The bar fell from my numbed and bloody hands as I stood, silent and unmoving, amidst the chaos and destruction.

**Morelli's POV**

My feet carried me to my car, away from Ranger and his men. Away from the building that had housed the woman I'd loved, now an empty, smoking shell. My legs felt encased in lead and it was sheer willpower to keep moving.

When I reached my car, I leaned forward against it, grateful for the support. The anger that had exploded out of me toward Ranger had now evaporated into overwhelming grief.

"You all right, Morelli?" I turned. Officer Romano was eyeing me with concern. Everyone knew Steph and I had dated.

"Yeah," I said hoarsely. "I'm fine."

"You want to go by her parents'?" he asked. "Or I can do it, if you'd rather-"

"No," I cut him off. "I'll do it." It was the least I owed Stephanie.

"Okay, but clean up first," he suggested. "You look like hell." I nodded. I was sure I did, after the fight with Ranger.

I drove home and showered. Dirt and blood were on my face and hands and my lip had split where Ranger had hit me. My knuckles were bruised and scraped as well and I could see the beginnings of a black eye.

Jerking open the medicine cabinet, I froze. Steph had left a half-empty bottle of her favorite perfume over here. She must have forgotten it when she moved her things out a couple weeks ago.

Slowly picking it up, I pulled the lid off and sniffed at the delicate fragrance. I was instantly assailed with memories of Stephanie. Laughing with her at something Bob had done, cuddling with her on the couch while we ate pizza and drank beer, making love to her in my bed, holding her as she slept and waking to her sprawled all over me.

A shaft of pain ripped through me and I stumbled out of the bathroom, collapsing onto the bed. I clutched the bottle of perfume to me as a sob tore from my throat. I couldn't believe she was really gone.

I was never going to see her again, never going to give her a hard time about whatever mess she'd gotten into going after her latest skip, never going to pretend not to notice when she filched fries off my plate or snagged a drink of my beer. Never again feel her arms go around me in a hug or see her mischievous smile curve her lips, the twinkle in her eye guaranteeing she was up to no good.

Sucking in great gulps of air, I tried to pull myself together. Her parents had to be notified. Carefully placing the perfume bottle on the table next to the bed, I dressed, running my fingers through my hair to smooth it down.

Ten minutes later, I was standing outside her parents' house. My gut felt like someone had twisted a knife in it as I waited for someone to answer the doorbell's summons. Finally, the door opened.

"Joseph," her mother said, sounding surprised to see me. "What a nice surprise! Won't you come in?" She held the door open and I walked past her into the house.

"Stephanie's not here," she continued, closing the door and turning to face me, "if you're looking for her. May I get you something to drink?"

"No, ma'am," I said, my voice rough. I cleared my throat and tried again. "I need to speak to you and your husband, if he's around." Something in my tone must have registered because she studied my eyes, her face paling a little as she realized this was not a social visit.

"Of course," she said softly, "let me just go get him." She disappeared into the living room and returned a few moments later, Steph's dad in tow.

"What's this about?" he asked gruffly.

"You may want to sit down," I said to them, my eyes on Steph's mom. She obediently sank into a kitchen chair, her eyes wide and fearful. I took a deep breath. I had to keep it together, I couldn't lose it now.

"I'm sorry to inform you," I began, and Mrs. Plum gasped, her hands covering her mouth, "that Stephanie was caught in a fire early this morning in her apartment. She did not survive."

"But...but that's impossible," she said. "We just saw her last night!"

"When did you see her?"

"About nine, I think. She came to say goodbye." That made me pause.

"Goodbye?" I was confused. The firemen had said there was an explosion. Surely Stephanie wouldn't have...

"Yes," Mrs. Plum continued, interrupting my thought. "She left town last night."

I couldn't have heard her correctly.

"What?"

"Stephanie left," she repeated, this time more forcefully. "We saw her drive off."

I wanted to believe her, but it seemed too good to be true.

"Why was she leaving town?" I asked. "Was there an emergency or something? When is she coming back?"

"She wasn't planning on coming back, I think," her mom said. "She was upset, had been crying. Stephanie said she 'needed a fresh start.'"

Stephanie had left town, never planning to return, and hadn't told me. Something must have happened; something bad enough to make her want to leave her home and everyone she knew, everyone who loved her. And I'd bet anything it had to do with Ranger. My fists clenched and I had to work to keep the anger from my face.

"We gave her some money and the car," Mr. Plum said. "We watched her drive away."

"And you're sure she wasn't going to her apartment?" I asked, still unsure if I should trust this miracle of fate.

"She was absolutely sure," her mother answered. "I even asked her if she was going by her apartment. She said no – that she had to go, had to leave town right away."

"Has she called?" I asked. I'd already tried her cell phone earlier and it had gone to voice mail.

"No, but she said she would," Mrs. Plum replied.

"They did find a body in her apartment," I told them. "The medical examiner will do a dental record match."

"It's not her," Mrs. Plum insisted. "She'll call. You'll see. And I'll let you know when she does."

I looked at Mr. Plum who was as resolute as his wife.

"My baby girl is just fine," he said grimly. "You tell the medical examiner to hurry up with those dental records. They'll show it wasn't our Stephanie in that fire."

I gave a curt nod, then turned and left. I had my phone in my hand before I'd even reached my car.

**RPOV**

It wasn't until the following evening that Tank had a lead on Tessler.

"Looks like he didn't leave town after all," Tank said, handing me surveillance photographs. "Carl and Max took these while watching his house earlier."

I sat back in my chair and stared at the photos spread out on my desk. This was the piece of shit who had laid the trap for Stephanie. I picked up one to examine it more closely. The paper crumbled in my fist.

"What do we know about this guy?" I asked. Tank opened a folder and began skimming through it, hitting the highlights for me.

"A high school dropout, but not for lack of intelligence. The guy scored off the charts on the standardized tests. Self-proclaimed anarchist. Got involved in an online group devoted to booby traps." Tank flipped a few pages. "Turned out he had a real knack for it. Sold some of his designs on the internet, but the feds couldn't pin it on him. Had a girlfriend who dumped him, then he started stalking her. She began dating a new guy, and Tessler got jealous - booby trapped her house." He looked up from the folder.

"She went to blow dry her hair and it blew her arm off. Nearly killed her."

I digested this in silence. Stephanie should never have been going after this guy from the start. If I'd paid closer attention to her skips...but I couldn't continue that thought. The game of "if only" would get me nowhere except paralyzed with regret and grief.

"Gather up a team of three men, plus you and me," I ordered. "Night gear and flak vests. And I only want men who've been in the field for this one," I added. "Preferably anyone with experience spotting traps." Tank nodded in acknowledgement, getting to his feet.

"When do you want to go?" he asked. I glanced at my watch.

"Let's leave at 2230," I replied. Tank went to carry out my orders.

At 2200 hours, I went upstairs to change. I put on a tightly fitted short sleeved black t-shirt and black cargo pants. Pulling on my boots, I stowed my bowie knife in the built-in holster inside the boot.

In the bathroom, I smeared on some black face paint. Pulling open a drawer, I spotted one of Stephanie's hair bands. It was red. Without thinking, I grabbed it, slipping it onto my wrist. As a talisman, it wasn't much. But I had nothing else of hers to keep with me. All her things had burned in the fire. Including her.

My steps faltered at the thought as I walked out of the bedroom, but I kept going, my eyes steadfastly ignoring the bed. I hadn't slept in it since Steph had died, spending my nights on the couch instead. Ella hadn't said anything, but she probably could guess why since I refused to let her change the sheets on the bed.

I met Tank downstairs in the garage. With him were Lester, Hal, and Martin. All wore similar attire as me. Tank dispensed the gear and we all checked the goggles and ammunition.

"The target is Darrin Tessler," I briefed everyone as Tank passed around a photograph of him. "Highly intelligent, known to be extremely dangerous. His house is likely to be booby trapped in multiple locations." The men strapped on the flack vests as they listened.

"We'll split up into two teams," I said. "Lester, Martin and Hal, you'll take the rear. Tank and I will go in the front." Their eyes were intent on me now, committing the operation to memory. "We'll use the night goggles, but be aware, electricity will not be cut so be prepared to ditch the night vision."

"I want to take him alive, if at all possible," I said. I had plans for Tessler, and a quick death was not one of them.

"Tread carefully and watch your backs." I gave a curt nod and we piled into two SUVs.

Twenty minute later, we pulled into a dark neighborhood. It wasn't the best section of town and I noticed with satisfaction that the streetlights had been broken. The adrenaline was pumping through my veins now, the promise of impending action assuaging something inside me that was desperate to avenge Stephanie.

Parking two streets over, we split up and backtracked to Tessler's house. It was a shabby ranch-style house, most likely built sometime in the 1950s. A dim light flickered in the back corner, probably a television.

Wordlessly, Tank and I communicated through gestures. I would take point, he would back me up. Silently, we crept to the front of Tessler's house.

The front door would be the most obvious place for a booby trap, which was why we weren't going there. A window would be our point of entry.

Tank had a wide roll of tape which he quickly placed over the window. Taking a tiny piece of ninja rock from my pocket, I tossed it at the small spot in the center that Tank had left uncovered. The window shattered immediately, the shards sticking to the tape rather than falling on the floor inside.

I quickly pulled the ruined window out, tossing it on the ground. Carefully putting my arm inside the window, I gently unlocked it, searching the frame with my hand for anything unusual. It looked like Tessler hadn't thought to tag the windows.

I hoisted myself up through the window. Once inside, I crouched silently on the floor, listening. I'd been right, the television was on further back in the house.

Moving to the door, I slid my goggles down over my eyes and studied the frame. After a moment, I found it – a thin, nearly translucent wire that ran from the door to the wall at about knee height. Following its path, I saw an explosive rigged to blow should the door open. Carefully, I disarmed the tripwire before opening the door to let Tank inside.

Moving stealthily through the house, my every sense was on high alert. Doorways remained the most obvious place for traps and we disarmed two more tripwires as we passed by.

A loud noise followed by a yell came from the back of the house. Tank and I moved as quickly as we dared through the kitchen to the bedroom in back.

Martin was on the ground cursing, a knife embedded in his shoulder. Lester was crouched by his side. I spared a quick glance at him as I took stock of the situation. Tearing off my goggles, I saw Tessler was nowhere in sight.

"Report," I barked the order.

"Martin triggered a trap," Lester complied. "Hal followed the target downstairs."

"Get Martin out," I said, "Tank, you're with me."

The sound of gunfire had me racing to the basement door. It was open on its hinges and I could smell the gunpowder from where I stood. A weak light filtered up the battered wooden staircase and I heard a groan.

Easing downward, rifle leveled out in front of me, I saw Hal collapsed on the stairs. Motioning to Tank, I told him to get Hal out. I saw the look in his eyes and knew he didn't want to go, but an order was an order. Heaving Hal to his feet, Tank pulled his arm over his shoulder, hustling him up the stairs and out.

I was icily calm. This fucker had taken down two of my men tonight. He'd pay for that. Booby traps were a coward's weapon.

My goggles were useless now, there was too much light down there. I decided I needed to travel light so I ditched the goggles and my rifle, pulling my handgun from my holster. That's when I heard him.

"Are you coming for me, Ranger?"

It was Tessler, calling up to me from the basement. I carefully settled my weight on the next step, studying the walls as I moved, searching for another trap.

"I knew it would be you, you know," he said. "I've seen you with that girl. Saw how you jumped in the river for her."

Another two steps down, five remaining.

"I was really impressed," Tessler continued. "I mean, how often do you have to rescue her? It seemed like she wasn't very good at her job."

A twinge this time, as I listened to him talk about Stephanie. Three more steps, two to go.

"Of course, you weren't there to rescue her the other night, were you. I heard her, you know, screaming for you. Over and over."

I almost missed it. Another inch and my foot would have landed on it. The second to last step had a slight irregularity on its surface that could only be a trigger. I skirted it, landing on the concrete floor and turning to see Tessler standing fifteen feet away. My gun was steady as I pointed it at him. He smiled at me.

"You're good," he congratulated me. "Of course, some of your men weren't as lucky. Please don't take it personally." He was a little guy, maybe only five ten, and scrawny. But his eyes were clever and cold. I'd seen men with eyes like that before. There was no redemption for them. They killed without mercy, just because it pleased them. Right and wrong were just abstract ideas in their minds, morality a punch line.

I eased closer, keeping my eyes on him as much as I could even as I scanned the area for more traps or wires. Since he wanted me to come closer, I knew there had to be at least one between him and me.

"Come with me, Tessler," I offered, "and you won't have to die." I was lying, of course. I had every intention of killing him. He laughed.

"Right. Somehow, I find that hard to believe." I continued edging forward. "How about you die instead?" The slightest flicker of his eyes tipped me off. I hit the floor just as a volley of what seemed to be arrows or darts whizzed by over my head.

Tessler took the opportunity to run past me towards the stairs. Grabbing a flashbang from my belt, I pulled the pin and tossed it toward him, quickly squeezing my eyes shut and holding my hands over my ears. When it went off, Tessler screamed, falling to the floor. Instantly, I was on my feet and grabbed him by the arms, pulling him up.

He shook his head, trying to clear it then bent over at the waist. I thought he was going to be sick from the grenade, but I felt cold metal wrap around my wrist. Grabbing his collar, I jerked him up and saw that he'd locked a handcuff to my wrist, the other end of which was attached to him. Tessler smiled at me again, a deranged grin and eyes that seemed to cut through my soul.

"What's the matter, Ranger?" he sneered. "I would have thought you'd want to join your girlfriend. Don't you want to know how it feels to die?" Tessler's other hand grappled and pulled at his shirt until the buttons tore and I could see the flat pack of C4 strapped to his chest.

"We'll die together," he whispered. "You'll know what she felt as the fire burned her alive, choking on her screams as the smoke filled her lungs. Since you weren't there to save her." His voice mesmerized me as I stared at him, and for a moment, I hesitated. I couldn't help what went through my mind then.

This was what I deserved. To die in the same horrifying fashion Stephanie had. It was only fair. Stephanie's justice from beyond the grave.

Tearing my eyes from his, I looked down at his chest and saw what could only be the trigger for the device. It was swiftly counting down.

My eyes dropped further, down to my manacled wrist. Under the silver cuff, I could see Steph's red hair band. In that moment, it was almost as if I could hear Stephanie calling my name, and I knew she wouldn't want me to die. She had loved me, even though I'd hurt her and failed her. I owed it to her to live. When I looked back at Tessler, I knew what I had to do.

"You'll die alone, you miserable fuck," I growled. Dragging Tessler by his wrist to a nearby wooden crate, I pulled my knife from my boot. In one quick movement, I laid his arm on the crate and swung my knife. Tessler screamed in agony, his severed hand falling to the floor. For good measure, I buried my knife in his gut and twisted it. He crumpled to the floor, choking on his own blood.

I knew I had only seconds. I wasted no time in flying up the stairs, leaping over the trigger step. My foot was on the back patio when the explosion hit, the force of it sending me flying through the air to land on my back in the grass. Leaping to my feet, I moved further away from the house, watching as the flames lit up the night sky.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

**Tank's POV**

I was worried about Ranger. We all were. It had only been a few days since Stephanie had died, but I wondered if Ranger was going to bounce back.

I thought he had, the night we got Tessler. I'd seen the spark come back in his eyes as he planned out the mission, emotions had taken a back seat and the calm, fearless leader was back. But I'd been wrong.

Several times now I'd gone into his office to ask him something, only to find him turned in his chair toward the window, staring at nothing. When he spoke to me, his words seemed normal, but his eyes were empty. I hadn't seen him eat anything in my presence and Ella had confided in me that he wasn't sleeping much, and not at all in his bed, just on the couch. The guys covering the cameras had told me they'd also seen him down in the gym, working out for hours in the middle of the night. Of course, that was after we'd had some people come in and get rid of all the glass on the floor from the night he'd torn the place to pieces.

It seemed the whole place was on pins and needles, as if we were all waiting to exhale.

I had to make a call today that I'd been dreading. We needed to know the funeral information and nothing had been printed in the paper. I'd drawn the short straw to call Stephanie's parents. I put it off, telling myself I'd call them after dinner. Ranger hadn't said anything – I'd yet to hear him refer to Stephanie at all – but I knew he'd want to go to her funeral.

I was eating a sandwich at my desk when my phone intercom went off.

"Hey, Tank," Hector said, his voice tinny from the small speaker.

"Yeah," I mumbled, my mouth full of turkey and swiss on rye.

"We have a visitor who wants to come up. Says he needs to see Ranger."

"Who is it?" I ate a chip from the stash Steph had snuck in a couple weeks ago.

"Morelli." I froze mid-chew, then swiped my mouth with a napkin and stood.

"Let him in. I'll be right there."

I decided to run interference first, see what Morelli wanted. Last thing Ranger needed was another knock down drag out with the cop.

Hector had stashed Morelli in the small conference room by the elevator. He wasn't sitting, but pacing the room, rubbing his neck every few steps. I stepped inside and he glanced up at me. I winced. Morelli looked nearly as bad as Ranger. Dark circles rimmed his eyes which were as haunted as Ranger's were empty.

"Tank," he said, nodding by way of greeting. I nodded back.

"Ranger's busy," I said, curt but not impolite. "Can I help you?" Morelli eyed me.

"I'm not going to make trouble, Tank," he said. "But he's the one I need to see. Where is he?"

He looked deadly serious and appeared to be in full cop mode. I noticed he'd hung his badge on his belt. Maybe this wasn't a personal visit, like I'd assumed. I made a quick decision.

"C'mon," I said, jerking my head. Wordlessly, he followed me down the hall to Ranger's office. I rapped on the door, waited for Ranger to respond then opened the door.

"Joe Morelli's here to see you," I said. Ranger looked around, he'd been staring out the window again, and his face was an unreadable mask. I stepped out of the way and Joe walked into the office. Ranger got to his feet.

"Morelli," he said in an emotionless voice. Joe didn't respond, the tension in the room notching upward. I backed out, closing the door and leaving them alone.

**RPOV**

I felt a flicker of curiosity that Morelli was here. Somehow I doubted he had anything good to say to me – he'd pretty much said it all the other day. But Stephanie would have wanted us to get along as much as possible, so I made the effort. It was the first time since Tessler that I'd made much of an effort for anything.

I'd thought killing Tessler would absolve me of some of the crushing regret and guilt, but it hadn't. Instead, it felt as if I was fighting every moment of the day to not be consumed by it. I was operating on auto-pilot, my body going through the motions though my mind was far away, busy reliving every moment I'd had with Stephanie.

From the night I found her, naked and handcuffed to her shower curtain rod, to desperately trying to breathe life into her cold, still body on the banks of the Delaware River. All that time I'd had with her, and ultimately I'd wasted it. What I wouldn't give for another chance, one more day to spend with her.

Some truths had become very clear to me over the past several days, as things tend to do when life and death are staring you in the face. What had seemed important, no longer was. I'd valued and jealously guarded my independence, my solitude. And now I had both in spades. My grandmother used to say to me, be careful what you wish for – you just might get it. Only now did I see her wisdom.

I rubbed a weary hand over my face. The days of little to no sleep were wearing on me, but I hadn't been able to close my eyes without the image of Stephanie as I'd last seen her invading my mind - beautiful and flushed from our lovemaking, smiling at me with her heart in her eyes. Then her face would slowly transform to one of horror, terror and pain. When her agonized screams began, that's usually when I woke up, sweating and gasping for air.

"What can I do for you, Morelli?" I asked, pulling myself out of my own head. He didn't answer for a moment, just stared at me.

"I almost didn't come by," he confessed, a humorless smile twisting his lips. "Figured I'd just let you suffer for a while longer. But in the end…" his smile faded as he trailed off, shaking his head a little.

I was getting irritated. "What's your point, Morelli?"

His eyes lifted, looking straight at me when he spoke.

"The dental records came back. The body in the fire wasn't Stephanie."

I felt like he'd just sucker punched me in the gut. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. When I could speak, my voice was hoarse and ragged.

"Don't fuck with me, Morelli."

"It's true, Ranger," he said seriously. "The woman who died in Steph's apartment, she was Darrin Tessler's ex-girlfriend. We think he tricked her into going there somehow. Or maybe she was trying to warn Stephanie. I don't know. The point is, Stephanie's not dead."

"Then where is she?" I demanded. I didn't doubt what Morelli said, but the fact remained that no one had seen Stephanie for days. Tessler had lied to me about Steph being in her apartment, but that didn't mean he hadn't still killed her somewhere else.

"You tell me, Ranger," he said. "I spoke with her parents. They said she left town the other night, with no intention of ever coming back."

Shock went through me like an electric charge, then I was across the room and had my hand wrapped around his throat before he could say another word.

"How long have you known she might not be dead?" I bit out. To his credit, Morelli didn't bat an eye.

"Since right after the fire," he managed to squeeze out.

Fury filled me and I shoved him away. "You fucking prick," I said through gritted teeth. I had to exert some effort at control since I wanted to rip him to pieces with my bare hands.

"Get over yourself, Ranger," he said, rubbing his throat and glaring at me, "I thought you knew. I thought it might be something you and Steph cooked up – that she had another stalker or some crazy shit like that." He paused, staring at me. "It wasn't until today that it occurred to me that that might not be the case."

I quickly turned my back to him. My eyes stung and I clenched my fists, squeezing my eyes shut. Stephanie might be alive. After a moment, I turned back to Morelli.

"Where did she go?" I asked hoarsely. He shook his head.

"I don't know. Her parents don't either. All she told them was she had to leave town right then – she wasn't even going back to her apartment." His lips were pressed into a thin line now as he looked at me. "Whatever happened between you and Steph was bad enough for her to leave everyone and everything in the middle of the night. Her dad gave her some money and the car, but I doubt that got her very far."

I digested this in silence. "Have her parents heard from her since then?" I asked. Morelli shook his head.

"No, but her mom said she'd call me as soon as she did."

As much as I wanted to believe that she wasn't dead, the realist in me knew it had been too long for Stephanie to be out of touch. I couldn't afford hope. Hope could kill a man's soul.

At that moment, Morelli's phone rang. Grabbing it, he glanced at the number, frowning, before flipping it open.

"Morelli," he answered.

I was half paying attention to him, the rest of my mind preoccupied with where Tessler might have hidden Stephanie. Maybe he'd abducted her and left her somewhere to die.

"Stephanie." Morelli choked out the word.

My head whipped around to stare at him.

**SPOV**

It had been a little difficult, the first night, to find someplace to stay that I could afford. Turns out, it was rather expensive to be in Key West. Finally, a kind stranger had directed me to a hostel on South Street. I was a little hesitant, I'd never been in a hostel before and all I could picture was 1960's style "free love" type of living, but it was actually a pretty decent place. There were a few other people staying there, mainly college kids, which made me feel really old, not to mention they must have thought I was a total loser.

The next day, I decided I was going to need to get a job. Not a lot of places were hiring, but I persisted in putting in my application anyway. Unfortunately, all the applications wanted a phone number. My phone was somewhere between here and Trenton, New Jersey. I was able to get one of those pay-as-you-go phones with a new number for relatively cheap.

"Please give this to your manager," I said, handing my application to the clerk behind the desk at a jewelry store. I pasted on a fake smile though my feet were killing me. I'd been pounding the pavement for hours and had filled out twelve applications.

The guy behind the counter looked bored as he gave me a quick once over. I knew what he saw, a sweaty, pasty white woman, hair frazzled with the humidity, who looked a little too desperate for a job. I gritted my teeth and kept my smile in place.

"Yeah, sure," he said, "I'll give it to him." I knew he was lying, it would most likely end up in the trash the moment the door shut behind me, but I just sighed and left.

So far, my new life wasn't starting out so well. Well, what did I think would happen? Even if I was in a fabulous new location, I was still the same old Stephanie Plum and it looked like my career misfortune wasn't going to change anytime soon.

I tried hard not to think of Ranger, or anyone, really. My heart ached at the thought of him. Resolutely, I made myself remember the things he'd said. He didn't love me like I loved him. It was never going to happen between us. He liked me enough to have amazing sex with me, but not enough to make me a permanent part of his life.

I couldn't lie to myself – I did get a tiny bit of satisfaction hearing the Sex God himself say we were amazing in bed together. It was the sweet part of bittersweet.

Climbing back into old blue, I turned the key in the ignition. The car gave a pathetic grumbling noise, then a hiss and sigh, like it was just too tired to bother. I tried again, this time it did nothing at all. I rested my forehead on the steering wheel, fighting the urge to scream or cry, I couldn't decide which. Maybe both.

After a few minutes, I was sweating like a pig in the hot confines of the car. Depressed or not, I had to get out of it. Grabbing my purse, I kicked the door shut behind me. I didn't bother locking it. Maybe I'd get lucky and someone would steal it.

The sandals that had seemed so cute in Wal-Mart were wreaking their vengeance on me now and I cursed under my breath as I felt a blister break out on the sole of my foot. Damn shoes. Damn car.

Feeling sorry for myself, I decided to duck into a little out of the way restaurant on the way back to the hostel. As soon as I stepped inside, I wanted to walk right back out. It was a Cuban restaurant and I was assailed by thoughts of Ranger. But the hostess had already seen me so I reluctantly let her lead me to a seat.

I must have come at the right time because fifteen minutes later, the place was packed. The same woman that had seated me was now waiting tables. She apologized when she finally brought my food.

"One of our waitresses quit," she told me by way of explanation. I leapt at the opportunity.

"I can wait tables," I said eagerly. The lady eyed me. Her nametag proclaimed her to be Oleda. A short, plump woman, she gave the impression of stern kindness.

"Please. I really need a job." I didn't want to beg, but what can I say? Eating was high on my list of priorities, and to do that, I needed a steady source of income. My sincerity must have made an impression because she gave me a curt nod.

"Can you start now?" she asked wryly.

"Absolutely," I confirmed, leaping up and ignoring my protesting feet.

The next two hours went by in a blur. I hadn't waited tables since college, but it wasn't something you really forgot how to do. A lot of the customers spoke Spanish, but with the help of pointing at the menu, I was able to figure out what they wanted without too much trouble. And by the end of the rush, I'd learned nearly the whole menu in Spanish.

I was finishing up wiping down tables when Oleda came up to me, her eyes twinkling.

"Thank you," she said, smiling. "I'm glad you were looking for a job."

"I'm glad your waitress quit," I replied, smiling back tiredly.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Stephanie. Stephanie Plum."

"Can you work tomorrow?"

"Absolutely. I can work whenever you'd like," I assured her.

"I'll put together a revised schedule tonight," she said. "I'll have some shirts for you tomorrow as well. We open at 11 am."

"Okay," I said. "I'll see you then."

I left the restaurant, pleased at my good fortune. Granted, it wasn't a great job, but it would hopefully keep me from starving and sleeping on the streets.

Instead of heading back to the hostel, which was only a couple blocks away, I decided to go to the beach. My feet hurt so I reached down and took off the sandals, vowing to buy some tennis shoes tomorrow. I thought I could be careful and watch where I walked. Anything had to be better than wearing those shoes for another minute.

Fifteen minutes later, I was standing on the sand watching the ocean break against the shore. It was dark and the heat of the day had faded to a pleasant warmth. A light breeze ruffled my hair and I closed my eyes, breathing in the salty tang of the air and just listening to the soothing sound of the surf.

A pang of homesickness suddenly struck me, and I realized with a jolt that I hadn't called my parents since I'd left Trenton.

I found a spot in the sand to sit and gratefully collapsed, the soft sand pleasant against my bare legs. The sand was already cooling, the heat from the day leaching into the night air. Pulling out my new phone, I dialed my mom.

"Hello?"

"Hey Mom, it's me. How are you?"

"Oh my God! Stephanie! Thank God, you're all right!" My normally stoic mom began to cry. I was stunned, aghast that she was so upset.

"Mom, I'm so sorry," I said over her crying. "I know it's been a few days. I should have called." I listened in dismay as she cried. "Mom?"

My dad's voice came on the phone. "Stephanie, honey, we're glad to hear from you."

"Dad, what's wrong with Mom? Why is she crying?"

"Stephanie," he said, "I have some bad news." My stomach clenched. Please, God, don't let anything have happened to Ranger.

"Your apartment burned down," he said. "A woman was caught there – everyone thought it was you."

I couldn't speak. Those were the last words I would have expected to come out of my dad's mouth. My apartment was gone. All my things. I knew I'd left everything behind, but it felt different knowing they were no longer retrievable by any means.

And, what had he said? About a woman? My brain had stopped processing after he'd said my apartment had burned down.

"What did you say?" I asked. "Who thought what was me?"

"A woman was caught in the fire," he repeated. "The police, Joe, they told us you were dead."

"Oh, God. Dad, I'm so sorry," I whispered. I would never have let them suffer like that if I'd had any idea. I remembered tossing my cell phone and now felt guilty. They'd probably tried to call me.

"It's all right," he said gruffly. "We're just glad you're okay."

"Is Mom...is she mad at me?" I asked weakly.

"Of course not," he said, "she's just relieved. I think she's okay now. Hold on, I'll put her back on."

In a moment, I heard my mom's voice again, sounding much more like herself.

"Stephanie, you sure gave us a turn," she said, and I could hear her blow her nose. "Where are you?"

"I'm sorry, Mom," I repeated. "I had no idea. I should have called sooner. I'm actually in Key West."

"Key West!"

"Yeah. It's really nice here. I have a place to stay and a job." My mother digested this for a moment.

"So you're not planning on coming back?" she asked quietly.

"Not at the moment," I answered honestly. "That might change, but not right now."

The ever present pain when I thought of Ranger struck me again and I pressed my head to my knees, squeezing my eyes shut. I wanted to see him so badly, it was a physical pain in my chest. I knew, if I did go back to Trenton, I'd never find the resolve to stay away from him no matter how badly I'd get hurt.

"Well, please call Joseph," she said. "He's been worried sick about you. We tried to tell him you were all right, but I don't think he believed us."

After assuring her that I would call him right away and that I wouldn't go so long without calling them again, we hung up.

God, I felt awful. Here I'd been completely wrapped up in my own heartbreak and my parents were thinking I was dead. And poor Joe. We weren't together anymore, but I knew he cared about me just as I did for him.

Then I thought of Ranger. Did he, too, think I was dead? I tried to imagine how he would react to that. My narcissistic, romantic side wanted to think he'd be torn up about it and regret what he'd said about us. My more realistic side said he'd grieve and move on.

I'd made a promise to my mom so I picked up the phone again, dialing Joe's number from memory. He answered on the third ring.

"Morelli."

"Joe, it's Steph," I said hesitantly, hoping he wasn't mad at me for not calling. I know if the situation were reversed and I'd spent a few days thinking he was dead when he was actually in perfect health, I'd be livid.

"Stephanie." Uh oh. He sounded like he might be mad.

"Joe, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. My parents just told me what happened." The words poured out of me in a torrent. "You know I'd have never let you think I was dead when, obviously, I'm not. I'm so, so sorry."

"God, Steph, I don't care," he said, and he sounded choked up. "I'm just so fucking glad you're okay."

"I am," I assured him. "I'm fine."

"Why didn't you answer your phone, Cupcake?" he asked, his voice sweet on the line. If we'd been in the same room, he would have been hugging me and kissing me on the forehead.

"I...kind of lost it," I lied weakly, knowing he'd see through it but not wanting to fess up to what an idiotic move throwing my phone away had turned out to be. He huffed a small laugh, and I knew he didn't believe me, but he didn't pursue it.

"Listen, Steph," he said, "I need you to talk to someone, okay?"

"Okay," I replied. Maybe I had to officially tell somebody that I really wasn't dead or something?

After a moment, another voice came on the line, and the sound of it made my breath strangle in my throat.

"Babe?"


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

**RPOV**

There was silence on the other end of the line. I tried again, desperation edging my voice.

"Steph, say something, anything," I begged. "Please." I waited.

"Hey, Ranger," she finally said, her voice quiet and tense. A shaft of pure joy shot through me and I gripped the phone tighter, willing her to speak again. But she was silent. I tried to get a grip on what I was feeling. I couldn't lose it if I was going to get her to come back.

"Where are you, Babe?" I asked softly. Again, it took her a moment to respond.

"I don't think I'm going to tell you that," she replied simply. My eyes squeezed shut, dismay filling me. But I decided not to press her. I wanted, needed, to talk to her. If I upset her, she might hang up.

"I thought you were dead." The words left my lips of their own accord, their harshness making me wince inwardly.

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't know...didn't realize...until my mom told me."

What she said next nearly broke me.

"Would it have mattered?" She asked the question matter-of-factly, as if she were inquiring as to the time of day. How could she even ask that? Anger rose inside me and I wanted to yell and rage at her that yes, it fucking mattered.

"I love you," I bit out. "You know I do."

"Yeah, Ranger, I know," she said, sounding weary. It tore at me. "I heard you, remember? You love having sex with me and you sure do like me a lot. But that's not enough."

"Babe, I –"

"I can't live like that," she cut me off. "Take care of yourself. Goodbye, Ranger." The calm finality in her voice made my blood run cold.

The line went dead.

**SPOV**

I closed the phone, glad I'd done a *67 before calling Joe to block my cell number. My hands were shaking now and I was grateful to already be sitting. I hadn't expected to speak to Ranger and it was only now that the enormity of what I'd done hit me.

I started to sob. I couldn't help it. His voice was like water on my parched soul. I missed him so badly. It had taken every ounce of self control I had not to tell him where I was. There was no possibility of me getting on with my life if I was constantly looking around, waiting for Ranger to show up.

But I felt the loss with every fiber of my being. I'd thought I was healing, but now it seemed the bandage had been ripped away, exposing the gaping wound.

I buried my face in my hands and cried, feeling like my heart was breaking all over again. But I'd done what I had to do, not only for me, but for Ranger, too. I couldn't let him go on this way, feeling responsible for my welfare. It wasn't his fault I fell in love with him. Okay, maybe a little, but it was over now and he should be able to go on without any obligation toward me.

I kept telling myself this, but it didn't stop the tears from falling.

"Hey there, are you all right? Now, it can't all be that bad, can it?"

The voice startled me and I jerked my head up. A man was crouched down next to me in the sand, watching me with concern in his eyes. It was hard to see him clearly in the dark, but he seemed about mid-thirties with dark hair. He was wearing light colored pants, maybe white, of lightweight linen. The matching shirt was unbuttoned down to mid-chest. This distracted me for a moment – he had a very nice chest – but then I was scooting backward on the sand away from him, alarmed at his presence. I was alone on the beach at night and not a soul except my mother, thirteen hundred miles away, knew I was here.

"Hey, it's all right," he said gently, staying very still, like you would with a wild creature you didn't want to frighten away. "I'm not going to hurt you." His voice was like honeyed wine, a smooth Southern gentleman drawl that made you want to trust him.

"Who...who are you?" I asked, quickly wiping the tears from my face. He smiled, the whiteness of his teeth visible even in the darkening shadows.

"The name's Michael," he answered, still respecting the distance I'd put between us. "And you are?" He looked expectantly at me. I cleared my throat a little before answering.

"Stephanie." Michael's smile widened, then he dipped his head a little like the tip of a non-existent hat.

"Well, Stephanie," he said, "it's very nice to meet you. Now, I'm sure that whatever a beautiful woman like yourself is crying about can't be all that bad."

The compliment made me think of Ranger and I wanted to cry again. I bit my lip to hold in the tears and decided to fudge a little. The truth was just too difficult to explain.

"Just a bad breakup," I said, sniffling.

"Been there, done that," Michael sympathized. He motioned to the sand beside me. "Mind if I have a seat?"

"Feel free," I said, wiping my eyes again. He rested on the sand beside me, leaning back on his elbows and stretching his long legs out in front of him, ankles crossed. Together, we watched the ocean waves roll in. I could hear the strains of music and laughter from a bar a block down the beach. Michael seemed content to sit by me in comfortable silence. I tried to relax, let the ocean do its magic on my troubled heart and mind.

"Do you live here?" I asked him after a few minutes.

"I do," he answered. "What about you? Vacationing?"

"No, I-" I had to pause for a moment. "I guess I live here now." My voice held surprise and Michael turned to look at me.

"You don't know?" he asked, and even in the shadows I could see his eyes twinkling with humor. I smiled back a little ruefully.

"It was kind of a spur of the moment decision to come here," I explained. "Like I said, bad breakup. And now I just found out that all the things I left behind are gone." My mind added "including Ranger," but I kept that part to myself.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Michael said softly. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"Yes. I'm staying in a hostel on South Street. It's not bad. And I got a job today." I could hear the pride in my voice. My New Life included a New Job.

"Congratulations," he said, his grin reappearing. "And where is this job?" I told him about the restaurant and how they'd needed a waitress.

"I've been to that place," he said. "They have great food. Maybe I'll see you there sometime." His eyes were a little warmer now and I hesitated.

"Maybe," I hedged with a small smile. The last thing I needed was a new relationship right now, but it felt too nice to have a friend for me to give him the cold shoulder entirely.

"Would you like to take a walk on the beach, Stephanie?" he asked. It was still early and he seemed very nice, not to mention very good looking. I thought maybe I should blow him off, but my wounded heart and bruised ego wouldn't let me. A very attractive man wanted to walk with me on a beautiful beach. I reminded myself that this was another good start to my New Life.

"Absolutely," I said. Michael got to his feet first, holding his hand down to help me up. He was taller than me by a few inches, which was nice. As if sensing it would be the wrong thing to do, he didn't reach for my hand, merely letting me lead the way and falling into step beside me.

As we walked, Michael entertained me with stories about the island. I knew virtually nothing about Key West and was enthralled, his drawl making him a natural storyteller. The time flew by, and before I knew it, a couple hours had passed with us just talking.

"I really should get back," I finally said with a sigh.

"Of course. You have that new job to get to tomorrow," he teased lightly. "May I offer you a ride back?"

He had been such a gentleman, I made a quick decision and agreed.

Michael led me to a sleek, black motorcycle. I stopped short in surprise. He saw my hesitation and the corner of his mouth tipped up.

"Not what you'd expected?" he asked, his eyes twinkling again with amusement. I laughed. It felt good to laugh.

"Not at all," I replied honestly.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I looked into his eyes, noticing now that they were blue. He had a strong, square jaw and a dimple appeared in his cheek when he smiled, like he was now.

"A good thing," I said. "A very good thing." I saw a glint in his eyes before he turned away to climb on the bike.

"Climb on," he said, and I obediently slid on behind him, wrapping my arms around his chest. His very hard, very muscular chest, I noticed. The flowing shirt hadn't done him justice, apparently.

The hostel was close and we were there in only a few minutes. Michael turned off the motorcycle when we arrived, helping me climb off.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," I said, and I meant it. The last few days had been hell. This was the first time I'd smiled, for real, since Trenton. I reached out to shake his hand.

"It was my pleasure, ma'am," he said, gallantly pressing his lips to the back of my hand. "May I see you again?" My heart fluttered wildly and my stomach clenched. I wasn't ready for this.

He must have seen the look on my face because his face became serious and he quickly added, "I thought perhaps you could use a friend on the island." I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'd really like that."

He flashed a parting smile at me then he was gone. I headed into the hostel, my heart lighter than it had been in days.

**RPOV**

It was only Morelli's quick wrenching of the phone out of my hand that saved it from an early demise against the wall.

"Did she say where she was?" he asked.

"No."

"Is she coming back?"

I forced out the answer. "No."

Morelli didn't say anything else, and after a moment, I heard my office door open and shut as he left.

I was conflicted. On one hand, I felt overwhelming relief and happiness that Stephanie was alive.

On the other hand, I felt anger, frustration, and something that felt excruciatingly painful if I examined in too closely. She'd ended us as cleanly as I could ever have wished. Except I didn't want that. Not anymore.

Steph was alive and nothing was going to keep me from finding her. Not even Stephanie herself.

I called Tank into the office, telling him about Stephanie. His face broke into a wide grin.

"Holy shit," he exclaimed. "That girl's got nine lives."

"I have to find her," I said. His grin faded.

"You sure about that, Ranger?" he asked seriously. "If she don't want to be found – maybe you shouldn't try to find her."

My hands tightened into fists and I glared at him, jaw clenched. With a sigh, he backed down.

"What do you want to do?"

"Put her picture out to all our contacts, especially those along the coast. Steph likes the water. Monitor all her credit cards for activity. Get her name on the no-fly list at Homeland Security. Put a tap on both Morelli and Steph's parents' phones – she's likely to call them."

"Wait," Tank interrupted me. "You want me to tap the cop? And her parents?" His voice was incredulous. I just looked at him

"Fuck," he muttered, then left to do my bidding.

I knew Tank would do what I said, no matter his personal feelings on the matter. But I didn't want to wait for Stephanie to call Morelli or her parents. I knew what I had to do, and I wasn't looking forward to it.

A little while later, I was pulling up in front of the Plums' house. It was way past dinner time, though I could see a light on in the kitchen. I self-consciously straightened my clothes, running a hand through my hair to smooth it. Raising my fist, I rapped sharply on the door.

The door opened after a minute or two, and Mrs. Plum appeared in the entryway. Her eyes widened when she saw me and she took a step back.

"Mrs. Plum?" I asked. At the sound of her name, she squinted a little and flipped on the porch light, illuminating me. I saw when she recognized me, her face hardened and her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Ranger, isn't it?" she said coolly. I noticed she didn't invite me in.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied.

"I take it I have you to thank for my daughter leaving home so abruptly in the middle of the night?"

Ouch.

"Yes, ma'am."

She studied me. "What do you want?"

"I was hoping you might be able to tell me where Stephanie went." I kept my voice as polite as I possibly could, knowing this was a long shot.

"Why should I tell you that?" she asked, her voice bitter. "I saw how upset Stephanie was the other night. Why would you do that to her? She's never done anything to deserve that."

"I..." For the first time in a long time, I was at a loss for words. Looking in the eyes of the person who loved Stephanie as much or more than I did, my guilt and regret returned to rob me of speech.

She waited, watching me silently as I struggled for words.

"I was wrong," I finally said baldly. "Stephanie...I love her. I just...didn't realize how much until..."

"Until you thought she was dead," she finished for me. Our eyes met, and while hers now showed a flicker of sympathy, she was still implacable.

"Sometimes it's just too late," she said. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Ranger, but if Stephanie hasn't told you where she is then I don't think I should either." I nodded, keeping my disappointment from my face.

"Yes, ma'am," I said. My eyes met hers defiantly. "I'll find her on my own."

I left her staring after me as I returned to my car and drove off into the night.

**SPOV**

To my surprise, Michael was waiting for me the next day when I got off work.

I smiled tiredly at him as he stood waiting by his motorcycle. It had been a busy day, but not a bad one. Most of the clientele had been locals who, I'd found out, were very laid back and easygoing. Nothing was ever a rush, so if it took a little longer for me to get their lunch to them, it hadn't been a big deal.

"No worries!" Several of them had said when I'd apologized for taking too long. A few tourists had found the place as well, off the beaten path as it was, but it seemed they'd also been mindful of the slower pace here and no one had gotten mad at me.

"I thought you might be hungry," Michael said. Actually, I was. After being around the same food all day, good as it was, I hadn't wanted to eat anything before I left. Sweaty and smelling like food, I couldn't wait for a shower.

"That sounds great," I said, "I just want to shower and change first. Is that all right?"

"Your wish is my command," he teased, climbing on the motorcycle and waiting for me to join him. A couple minutes later, we were back at the hostel. Michael waited in the courtyard while I quickly showered and dressed. I'd found a vintage clothing store on the island that morning that sold clothes pretty cheap. I'd bought a pretty wraparound skirt made of a light material that seemed to float about my legs. Pairing that with a short sleeved tee and a pair of comfortable sandals this time, and I was ready to go.

I met Michael back in the courtyard and he looked me over with appreciation. I was glad to have made the effort to look nice, especially after he'd seen me so upset last night and dirty and work-weary today.

I realized that I'd made an idiotic choice of clothing when I went to get on the motorcycle. Michael glanced over at me when I hesitated, grinning mischievously when he realized my dilemma.

"And here I thought you'd made that choice deliberately," he teased. I looked at him questioningly. "Wearing a skirt to ride a motorcycle is extremely sexy," he explained, laughing a little when my cheeks flushed.

"C'mon," he said, "I promise I won't let it affect our friendship status." He paused, cocking an eyebrow at me. "Unless you want it to." His drawl as he said the words made the butterflies in my stomach do somersaults and he just laughed again.

Gamely, I pulled the skirt up, tucking it between my spread legs as I sat behind him on the motorcycle. Tonight Michael was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and another loose, lightweight short-sleeved shirt, this one of a dark blue that, again, was unbuttoned partway down his chest. The blue made his eyes seem even darker, I noticed.

"You ready?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at me. Our faces were inches apart and I could smell his cologne, a rich scent of sandalwood and exotic spices. I nodded my agreement. His lips spread into a slow smile as our eyes met and the butterflies swung into high gear.

It was after eight now and the nightlife on the island was just getting started. No one was in a hurry, tourists and locals alike meandering the narrow streets of Old Town. I looked at some of the beautiful homes we passed and wondered who lived in them. Some of them looked like they cost a fortune.

Michael took me to a little restaurant that overlooked the ocean. It seemed the kind of place where you'd have to have a reservation, but the host seemed to know Michael and I watched them exchange some friendly words before he led us to a table with a fantastic view of the water.

Glancing at the menu, Michael said, "May I order for you?" I couldn't help grinning. He really was old-school. I had never had a man order for me before, but I thought I'd go along with it. If he was a regular here, he no doubt knew what was good.

"Go ahead," I said, and when the waiter came by, Michael ordered our meal in Spanish. I was abruptly and forcefully reminded of Ranger, and it took a minute or two for me to breathe normally again.

"Everything all right?" Michael asked, concern in his eyes. I nodded.

"I'm fine," I replied, then abruptly changed the subject. "This is a nice place. Do you come here often?"

"I do," he answered, "It's one of my favorite places on the island. Great view, great food, and tonight, great company." His eyes were warm and kind and I felt myself relax. "So Stephanie," he said, "are you going to tell me your last name or do you wish to remain a woman of mystery?"

I laughed at his teasing. "Plum. Stephanie Plum. And what about you?"

"Michael Ortega, at your service," he said. I frowned a little.

"A Spanish last name?" He didn't look of Mexican or Cuban descent.

"My mother remarried when I was very young," he said, "and my stepfather adopted me, so I have his last name. My mother's maiden name was Reynolds."

"Do they live here, too?"

"They're no longer with me," he answered evenly, and I felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

"It's all right," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It was a long time ago."

"May I ask what happened?"

"The drug trade," he said simply, and I frowned. "Key West has long been a smuggling island," he explained, "way back to when it was run by pirates and rum was the drug of choice. Now it's heroin, cocaine, crack and Ecstasy, but Key West is still a prime location for entry into the US. It's a violent business, and sometimes innocent people lose their lives."

"That's awful. I'm so sorry." His smile was a little automatic and tense now, and I was sorry I'd pried.

Just then our waiter came with a bottle of wine and that seemed to lighten Michael's mood as he poured me a glass.

"So how was your first day on the new job?" he asked, and I gladly complied in changing the subject, telling him about some of the interesting locals I'd met and how the pace of life here was so much different than back home.

"And where was home?" Michael asked.

"Trenton, New Jersey," I answered. He gave a low whistle.

"You must have really wanted to get away," he said. "Though, I must say, if I called New Jersey home, I might just drive as far away as the road would take me, too." I laughed, since that was exactly what I'd done.

"So what do you do for a living?" I asked. I'd already noticed that the locals here seemed to fall into two classes of people – the extremely wealthy and the poorer classes that made their small livings off the tourist industry and fishing. Michael didn't seem to fit into either class. He had a nice motorcycle, but could live in a hovel, for all I knew.

"I run my dad's business," he said. "Imports, that sort of thing. It's not real exciting, but it pays the bills and the hours are pretty much what I make them."

"That must be nice," I said, "working for yourself."

"It is," he agreed. Our meal came then and I was pleasantly surprised at how well Michael had chosen for me. We ate and finished off the bottle of wine, chatting and laughing. I realized with a start that I was actually having a good time being wined and dined by a handsome, charming man. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been on an honest to goodness date.

Michael insisted on dessert, saying, "I've not met a woman yet who didn't want something sweet after dinner." Who was I to be the exception?

After dinner, we walked for a while, stopping in at a bar that had a Caribbean band playing. Michael bought me a fruity drink with an umbrella and made me dance with him. It was fun and carefree. The back of the bar was open to the outdoors and that's where Michael led me, warm and flushed from dancing, to cool off. He carried my sandals dangling from a finger while we walked along the water's edge.

It was late when he brought me back to the hostel and I was feeling pleasantly comfortable, if just slightly intoxicated from the fruity drinks. Dropping me off at the door, I was taken aback when he pressed a light kiss to my cheek.

"Thank you for a fun evening, Stephanie Plum," he said quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well."

That put a smile on my face as I watched his motorcycle disappear into the night. He wasn't pressuring me, just being good to his word at being my friend.

I changed my clothes and thought I'd better call my mom again. I still felt guilty for them thinking I might have been dead. She answered on the second ring.

"Hey Mom," I said, "it's me."

"Stephanie, how are you?"

"I'm good, Mom. You?"

"Everything's fine here. Your dad is asleep on the couch and Grandma Mazur is at a viewing."

"Who died?" I asked, and she sighed.

"I don't know. I don't think she even knows, actually." I laughed. That sounded like Grandma.

"Stephanie, I should probably tell you," she began seriously, "Ranger stopped by last night." My hand gripped the phone tightly as my stomach dropped.

"What did he want?" I managed to ask.

"He wanted to know where you were."

"Did you tell him?" I held my breath.

"No."

I wasn't sure if I was glad or not that she hadn't told Ranger I was in Key West. I should be glad, but my heart was saying something different. All the happiness I'd found tonight with Michael leached away as my chest constricted with pain.

"Did you want me to tell him you're in -"

"Don't say it, Mom!" I hastily interrupted. If I knew Ranger at all, I knew he might have planted a bug or something in my house while he was there. "Don't say where I am out loud."

My mother digested this in silence.

"I don't think I would approve if he should be listening in," she said coldly, for his benefit, I knew.

"I don't know that he is," I explained. "I just want to be careful, that's all." I changed the subject.

"My job went well today," I said. My mother went with the conversation and listened as I told her about my day.

"And I met someone. A man named Michael."

"Really?" My mom was mightily interested at that. I told her how nice he was and how he'd taken me to dinner tonight.

"Just be careful, Stephanie," she cautioned. "I know you felt very strongly for Ranger. I don't want to see you get hurt again."

"I won't, Mom," I assured her. "He's a friend, that's all."

"A handsome friend, I hope?" I laughed.

"Actually, yeah," I agreed. "Very handsome. I'm seeing him again tomorrow night after work."

We talked a little while longer before I got off the phone, promising to call her again soon.

**RPOV**

I listened to the conversation between Steph and her mom, my face betraying none of the emotions I felt at hearing about the man she'd met. How she'd spent the evening with him and how handsome she thought he was.

I wasn't surprised that Steph had caught on to the fact that I might be listening, though she probably thought I'd planted a bug rather than tapping the phone and assumed I couldn't hear what she was saying as well as her mother.

I listened grimly as she told her mom how she was living in a hostel and working as a waitress. Her mom didn't seem fazed, and I doubted she knew how dangerous a hostel could be with the kind of people that drifted in and out of them. Concentrating on her words and ignoring my growing concern, I tried to discern where she could be. Steph mentioned walking on the beach with this guy, Michael, but wasn't more specific. There were a lot of beaches in the continental United States.

The conversation finished and I rewound the tape, listening to it again and again.

The weeks passed and I grew no closer to finding Steph. She called her mother regularly and I got to hear how much time she was spending with Michael. How fun he was, how he'd taken her sailing and dancing, how he made her laugh.

I grew to despise Michael.

Stephanie's mom avoided any mention of me after that first conversation. And while we'd been keeping tabs on Morelli, Stephanie had yet to call him again. Her credit cards were never used and she wasn't coming up on any radar that we had out there.

I was growing desperate, so I upped the finder's fee on any information as to her whereabouts. It was now at a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

I was listening to the latest conversation between Stephanie and her mom. This one had me worried. She had told her mom she was moving out of the hostel, that Michael had a place for her to stay that he owned and didn't use. She thought it was so nice of him to offer that to her since she really missed having some privacy, and her mother agreed.

Listening to this, I felt my jaw clench tight. This Michael was smooth, I had to give him that. She'd known him for only a couple of months, and yet he'd gained her trust.

But I had no one to blame but myself. I had driven her away, apparently straight into the arms of another man. My punishment seemed fitting as I listened to her tell her mom about what they'd done that day. Hearing Stephanie talk when I was so desperate to speak to her, to hold her in my arms, was torture. I rubbed my tired eyes as I listened.

"Today Michael took me by Ernest Hemingway's house," Stephanie said, and I froze. "It was really neat to see, and they have so many cats! Just roaming around free. I counted at least six, but I'm sure there were more."

I missed what her mother said next because I was already on my feet and headed out my office door. I'd finally found her.

Stephanie was in Key West.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

**SPOV**

I was nearly finished packing my things, amazed again that all my possessions in the entire world could fit into a medium-sized suitcase. It was still disconcerting to me that I'd lost everything, but on the other hand, I couldn't have wished for a fresher start. There was nothing to tie me to my past, except my own memories.

It had been nearly three months since I'd left Trenton. Rarely a night passed that I didn't dream about Ranger, waking with the familiar heaviness in the center of my chest. But each day I got out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, breathed in and out all day long, and life went on. Perhaps it was getting easier to do that in increments, and I couldn't pretend that Michael hadn't been a big part of that.

My time here in Key West wouldn't have been nearly as fun and busy if I hadn't met Michael that first night. In some ways, I couldn't believe my luck. He'd been as good as his word, our relationship strictly platonic. Looking back, I don't know what I'd have done without him.

If I were honest with myself, I was attracted to Michael. What red blooded woman wouldn't be? He was gorgeous, funny and charming. He treated me very well, most nights taking me out to dinner and then a bar for dancing, always ending with a walk on the beach. On my days off, we'd toured around the island on his motorcycle. A couple weekends, he'd even taken me on his sailboat. I'd been pleasantly surprised at that, not realizing he owned a boat much less knew how to sail. It had been blissful both times, sunning in my bikini while Michael lay beside me, also soaking up the rays. The wind snapping the canvas sail and the sound of seagulls crying in the distance making me sigh in contentment.

A few nights, Michael had had to work so I used those evenings to do laundry and various other miscellaneous things. I'd called some friends from Trenton - Connie, Lula and Mary Lou, to reassure them as to my continued good health. However, I never told any of them where I was. I didn't think Connie or Lula could withstand a Ranger-style interrogation and Mary Jo might let something slip on accident.

I wondered when or even if Michael and I might move past being just friends. I wasn't sure I was ready for that, but I had wondered more than once what it would be like to kiss him. Michael touched me often, on the arm, the small of my back, when we were dancing, but he'd always been careful to not push the physical part of our relationship.

Today I was waiting for him to come get me to take me to a place he owned where he wanted me to stay. He'd assured me no one was using it, and had insisted I move in there. I'd demurred at first, but it was too tempting an offer, the lack of space and privacy in the hostel really getting to me.

Glancing once more in the mirror, I took in my appearance with a critical eye.

I'd lost weight since I'd been here. I still found it difficult to eat, especially in the first half of the day, when my nightmares of Ranger were still fresh in my mind. Usually, I only ate a few mouthfuls of food until Michael came. Something inside me would ease when I laid eyes on him, and I would finally feel normal again. He'd chastised me about getting too skinny and always made sure I ordered dessert. Since I'd been walking a lot, my legs and rear were more toned now, so I liked that. Today I was wearing denim shorts and a white t-shirt that showed off my tan.

Grabbing my suitcase, I hauled it outside where, moments later, Michael pulled up. My jaw fell open a little when I saw he was driving a black Porsche Boxster with the top down. The black Porsche immediately made me think of Ranger and I had to take a deep breath, shoving the image out of my mind.

Pulling up to the curb and stepping out, he hooked his sunglasses on the front of his shirt and gave me a slow grin.

"Not what you'd expected?" he asked, echoing what he'd said when I'd laid eyes on his motorcycle. I laughed, shaking my head. "Well, we can't exactly hook a suitcase to my motorcycle now, can we?" His eyes twinkled at me as he slid his arms around my waist for a hug. This had become our standard greeting and I hugged him back.

"Hey you," I said fondly.

"Hey yourself," he answered, brushing my cheek with his lips.

He opened the passenger door for me before hoisting my suitcase into the small trunk and climbing back into the driver's seat. I was glad I'd pulled my hair back into a ponytail as the warm wind was soon whipping through the car.

"So where is this place?" I asked, making my voice loud to be heard over the sound of the wind.

"You'll see," he said, smiling mischievously.

We drove for about twenty minutes eastward until we were in Sugarloaf Key. Michael took a right onto a county road that gradually narrowed from two lanes to one narrow lane, thick palm trees and undergrowth encroaching in on both sides. Finally, he turned into a driveway that could easily have been overlooked, if you weren't looking for it. I was seriously wondering where in the world he was taking me, the driveway winding through more undergrowth. Then we came to a clearing and I gasped.

A huge, two-story Caribbean style home sat in a neatly landscaped yard. Even from where I sat, frozen in awe in the car, I could see the ocean was only yards away. Michael turned towards me, his wide smile making deep dimples in his cheeks.

"You like it?" he asked. Numbly, I could only nod. He laughed. "Home sweet home. C'mon." He climbed out of the car, leaving me still staring at the house.

"You live here?" I squeaked.

"Yep," he said, pulling open my door; he already had my suitcase. "And now, so do you."

"Wait, wait," I said as I climbed out of the car, trying to wrap my head around this. "I thought I was going to stay in some little place you had that no one was using?"

"I never said it was little," he said slowly. "And I may have said a tiny white lie about no one using it. He saw the look on my face and quickly continued. "But I was afraid you wouldn't come if you knew. Listen, I'm the only one here in this huge house by myself. You'll love it, I promise. You'll have your own bedroom, and a bathroom all to yourself."

I hesitated. I wasn't happy that he'd lied, but I really didn't want to go back to the hostel either. Michael saw the indecision on my face.

"Please stay," he said seriously, his blue eyes intent on mine. "I just couldn't stand having you stay in that place anymore. Have I given you any reason not to trust me?"

He was right. Michael had done nothing that would cause me to think he wasn't worthy of my trust. I made my decision.

"Okay, I'll stay." A smile broke out on his face and he picked me up, swinging me around with a whoop of victory. I couldn't help laughing at his exuberance.

"C'mon," he said eagerly, setting me back on my feet. "I'll give you the grand tour."

The house was even more amazing on the inside. A grand mahogany staircase rose from the main floor to the second with matching wood floors throughout the house. A gourmet kitchen with granite countertops and ceramic tile floor shared the ground floor with a living area surrounded by floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto the ocean.

Upstairs, there were four bedrooms. After showing me the master suite, Michael told me to pick out any of the other bedrooms I wanted. I chose the one next to his, a pretty room with a veranda outside that ran along the entire length of the house. It was decorated in earth tones and had a large four-poster queen bed. The bathroom had an actual tub that I couldn't wait to use. It had been way too long since I'd gotten to take a bath instead of a shower.

After depositing my suitcase on the bed, Michael led me outside, where once again, I stood frozen in amazement. A beautiful swimming pool, shrouded by palm trees, lay in the back yard. It had been made to look as if it were naturally hewn from the rock, the turquoise water deep and inviting. I'd usually only seen rectangular or oval pools, but this one bent and turned so it wasn't a symmetrical shape, which added to its appearing to be not man-made. A matching hot tub was carved into the rock a little ways away from the pool. Through the carefully tended palm trees, I could see the darkening twilight sky as the sun was setting.

"Do you like it?" Michael asked, his voice apprehensive, as if he really did crave my approval. I turned toward him with a smile.

"It's amazing. I love it." His face split into a grin before he suddenly scooped me up in his arms, walking purposefully toward the pool.

"Don't you dare, Michael!" I cried out, struggling. He just laughed and kept walking. "I'm serious!" I threatened, squirming to get down. "I will be really upset if you-" My words were cut off as he dropped me into the warm water. I came up spluttering for air and laughing.

"You bastard!" I yelled, slicking my dripping hair back out of my eyes.

"I think I found a drowned rat in my pool," he teased. I quickly cupped my hand and sent a spray of water toward him. He laughed again, sidestepping it. Pulling his shirt over his head, he dived in beside me. When he surfaced, he got a face full of water.

"Now, it's war," he said, wiping his face. I squealed in mock terror and swam away as he gave chase. He let me get away a few times before he finally caught me, his hand wrapping around my ankle as I tried to swim past. Both of us were laughing and out of breath as we climbed out of the pool, collapsing onto the ground.

"I can't believe you dumped me in the pool," I finally said, still smiling. Michael turned to look at me and our eyes caught and held. My smile gradually faded as the silence stretched and grew charged between us. His eyes dropped down to my chest and I saw his jaw clench. Glancing down, I realized that my white t-shirt and bra were now translucent, fully exposing my breasts to his gaze.

When I looked back at him, his eyes were back on mine, their blue depths dark with desire. I tried to swallow past my suddenly dry throat as I watched him move closer to me. My eyes slipped shut as his mouth settled on mine.

His lips were warm and soft as they gently explored, and when his tongue lightly traced the seam of my lips, I opened my mouth to let him deepen the kiss. My arms curved around his neck, my nails scraping lightly on the bare skin of his back. I felt warm air hit my stomach as Michael pushed my shirt and bra up, his mouth leaving mine to trail down my neck. I gasped when his mouth settled, hot and wet, over my turgid nipple. Heat curled low in my stomach as he licked and suckled my breasts until my breath was coming in pants and my nails bit into his skin.

It was only when his hand moved to the fastening of my shorts that I seemed to regain some sense. Closing my hand over his, I said frantically, "Wait!" Obediently his hand stilled.

"I can't...I'm not ready," I said, trying to explain the panic that went through me when I had realized where this was going. His eyes lifted to mine, searching, and I hoped he would understand. After a moment, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to my lips.

"It's all right," he said softly. "I'll wait." He carefully replaced my bra around my body and I shivered at the touch. Pulling my shirt over my head, he grinned and said, "But I can look, can't I?"

I smiled back, relieved that he wasn't upset. I didn't want to lead him on, but neither was I ready to make love. I was somewhere in between that was hard to describe, even to myself.

"Up you go," he said, getting to his feet and reaching a hand down to help me stand. "You haven't tried the hot tub yet."

"Shouldn't I get a bathing suit?" I said, squirming in my wet denim.

"Just take those off," he suggested, easing himself down into the steaming water with a sigh. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

I eyed him speculatively for a moment, but it seemed our brief physical interlude was over. I felt a pang of disappointment which I ignored since after all, I'd been the one to call a halt to it. Quickly, I stripped off my shorts so I was just in my white bra and panties. They were see-through by now but Michael wasn't looking and I slid into the water across from him.

We sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the evening. He told me a little more about the estate, that there was deep water boat access by the dock and a private boat basin. There was a tennis court as well as a gym and sauna. A total of nine acres encompassed the property.

"It's an amazing place," I said, marveling at all he was telling me.

"Its name is Pirates Cove," he said, grinning at me. I laughed, delighted at the name. It seemed fitting for a place such as this and for someone like him.

"Let's get some dinner," he said finally, heaving himself out of the water. "I'm hungry." I tried not to look at how the water glistened on his muscled chest and abdomen or how his wet shorts now hung very low on his hips, making me think he might not be wearing anything under them.

I hesitated, but I reminded myself that I trusted Michael, and climbed up the steps leading out of the Jacuzzi. He had been drying off with a towel as I got out and now he turned to hand me one as well, the motion coming to an abrupt halt as his eyes traveled up and down my body, lingering on the scraps of material covering my breasts and the triangle between my legs. I saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, then he jerkily handed me the towel. Wrapping it around me, I lifted my eyes to find him gazing at me, naked want in his eyes.

"You're beautiful," he said hoarsely, and I felt heat flush my cheeks, a combination of embarrassment and pleasure at his compliment. He reached for my hand and led me inside. After making me promise I would not be long getting ready since he was starving, he left me at my bedroom door, disappearing into his own.

An hour later, we were sipping wine at what had become our favorite restaurant, the same one he'd taken me the first night we'd gone out. But things were different now. We sat more closely together, Michael often reaching for my hand and playing with my fingers as he talked to me. Our laughter and conversation was more intimate, his eyes warm and tender as he watched me talk.

I'd told him about being a bounty hunter back in Trenton and had made him laugh with some of the more outlandish stories I had from tracking down skips. But I never said a word about Ranger. I didn't know if I'd ever tell Michael about him. Part of me just wanted to close the door on that part of my life. Talking about it would make it seem part of the here and now when I wanted it to stay in my past. To his credit, Michael never brought up what I'd been crying about on the beach that first night, and I was glad.

After dinner, we went to one of our usual local haunts, having a drink and dancing. Tonight, he held me closer, a slow burn building every time his lower body brushed against mine. Leaning down, he kissed me, slow and deep, as our bodies swayed to the music.

I was hot and flushed when we walked out onto the beach to cool off. Hand in hand, we strolled along the water's edge, the warm breeze lifting my hair and cooling the damp skin of my neck.

"Stop! Do as I say and you won't get hurt. Turn around slowly."

The voice came from behind us and startled me. I instinctively wanted to spin around, but Michael's arm was suddenly like a vice around my waist. Held against his side, he turned us around very slowly to face a man, shadowed in the dark, who appeared to be holding a gun.

"That's good," he said, his Spanish accent thick. "Now, hand over the purse and wallet."

It had been a long enough time since I'd had a gun pointed at me, that my hands shook as I fumbled with my purse. Michael's hands covered mine, stilling them. Confused, I looked up at him. He wasn't looking at me, but at the mugger. His face was like granite, cold fury etched into every line. It startled me. I had never seen him with anything but a smile on his face. When he spoke, it was in Spanish and was as cold as ice.

"¿Sabe usted quién soy yo?" (_Do you know who I am?)_

The mugger hesitated, then replied, his gun waving. "No me importa quién es usted. Dame tu dinero!" (_I don't care who you are. Give me your money!) _A whimper left my lips as the gun moved, and I flinched. Michael held me more tightly.

"Vete a la chingada," (_Fuck off)_ Michael snarled. I had never before wished quite as badly as I did now that I knew Spanish.

"Lo que está tanto tiempo?" _(What's taking so long?) _Another man was hurrying up behind the mugger, casting anxious glances all around as he did. When he got close, he glanced towards Michael and me and gasped. He began speaking in rapid Spanish to the mugger, gesticulating wildly towards us. After a moment, the mugger's face became a mask of horror and his hand began to shake. I was sure he was going to shoot us and I clutched at Michael.

"Punto de que el arma en otro lugar!" _(Point that gun somewhere else!)_ Michael barked, and to my amazement, the mugger dropped the arm holding the gun.

"Por favor, perdóname!" _(Please, forgive me!)_ exclaimed the mugger, quickly backing away. Michael's arm dropped from around me, and in a few quick strides, he had hauled the man toward him, his hand fisted in his shirt.

"Dígame su nombre," _(Tell me your name.)_ Michael hissed. I watched in stunned amazement as the mugger began to cry, his babbling becoming nearly incoherent. All I could make out was "perdóname" over and over again.

"¡Fuera de mi vista," _(Get out of my sight.)_ Michael said with disgust, shoving him away. The man tripped and fell in the sand, then was quickly on his feet, his friend helping him as they ran away.

Michael walked back to me, bending down to pick up my sandals that he'd dropped in the sand and brushing them off. When he reached me, I was too much in shock to even look at him. With a gentle finger under my chin, he lifted my gaze to his.

"Are you all right?" he asked. The cold rage was gone now, his face betraying only concern as he anxiously watched me. Silently, I nodded. Putting his arms around me, he drew me to his chest and I gratefully clutched him.

"I'm real sorry about that," he said, his hand gently rubbing the back of my neck above the tie of my halter dress.

"It's not your fault," I mumbled against his chest, sniffing. Now that the danger had passed, I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes. I blinked them back. Pulling away slightly, I looked up at him.

"What happened?" I asked, confused. "Why did they run away? What did you say to them?" None of it made any sense.

"A lot of people know me on the island," he said dismissively. "That guy didn't."

His lips twisted a little. "But his friend did."

I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I kept my silence. I knew Michael was rich, that probably made him a pretty well known figure on Key West. I couldn't help but feel safe and protected after seeing how the men had took off without Michael even having a weapon to threaten them.

Taking my hand again, Michael walked us back to the street next to the bar where he'd parked his motorcycle. The party was still in full swing though it was after midnight, but I was ready to call it a night. I climbed on behind him, hiking my dress up my legs to do so. Michael turned around to make sure I was ready and my arms slid around his chest to hold on. I closed my eyes and turned my head, resting my cheek against his back and closing my eyes, allowing the warm, solidness of him to reassure me, the spicy scent of his cologne drifting back to tease my nostrils. I felt the growl of the motorcycle roar to life underneath me, then we were flying through the night, back to Pirates Cove.

**RPOV**

I was packed and on a flight to Key West within two hours. Before I left, I made sure Tank knew to alert all our contacts, both government and under the radar, that the woman I was searching for was somewhere on the island. With so many people looking for her, I was bound to get a hit at some point. The island wasn't that big.

When I landed, the sun was setting. A car was waiting for me and I eased behind the wheel. My plan of action wasn't very exciting, but it was methodical. After checking in to a hotel and changing my clothes into something more appropriate to the climate that wouldn't leave me standing out in a crowd, I hit the streets.

Three hours later, I was no closer to my goal. I'd canvassed every hostel and cheap motel in Old Town without getting a single hit. Refusing to be discouraged, I consoled myself with the thought that I was closer to her now than I had been in three months. She was somewhere near here, experiencing the same balmy evening weather in this tropical paradise. I wondered if she was working or if she had the night off.

Or perhaps she was with Michael.

Anger and jealousy flared up in me at the thought of him, and I ducked into a nearby bar, ordering a Glenfiddich, neat. I tossed it back and noticed a blond sliding onto the stool next to me.

She was young, maybe mid-twenties. Pretty and tan, she smiled at me. I didn't smile back, but that didn't deter her.

"Hi," she said, turning so I got a good look at the cleavage she was displaying in a barely-there sundress. "I'm Natalie. Buy me a drink?"

I gave her a slow once over with my eyes and could hear her sharp intake of breath, her smile widening as she watched me, hoping I liked what I saw.

"Enjoy your drink, Natalie," I said, tossing a twenty on the bar before losing myself in the crowd. She was immediately forgotten as I resumed my search.

The crowds thickened as the night wore on, tourists and locals alike meandering through the streets from one bar to another. I walked closer to the ocean, moving into and among the bars and their patrons as I searched countless faces, hoping that the next bar would be the one.

I hadn't yet figured out what I was going to say or do when I finally did find her, and find her I would. I think I hoped it would just come to me, the magic words to tell her what a fucking asshole I had been. In that moment, somehow I'd just know the right thing to say that would make her understand how much I loved her, how I would do anything to get her back. It had only been three months, she had to still feel something for me, no matter how much she liked that fucking prick Michael.

Coming out of yet another bar, something across the street caught my eye. A woman was climbing behind a man onto a black Honda CBR 1000RR motorcycle. She pulled her dress up her legs, and despite myself, I couldn't help stopping to watch as the fabric exposed her long leg and thigh. There were few things sexier than a beautiful woman on the back of a motorcycle, and with a pang, I remembered the short time Steph had driven one.

The man driving turned slightly as the woman settled behind him, making sure she was ready. Her arms slid around his chest to hold on and it was only then that she turned her face toward me.

I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut. Stephanie wasn't fifteen feet from me, sitting on the back of the motorcycle, her arms around another man. She didn't see me because her eyes were closed, her head resting on the man's back. It could only be Michael.

I stood frozen in shock, and by the time I was finally able to make my feet move towards them, the motorcycle had roared to life. I started to run, but the machine shot forward into the night and they were gone.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

**Ten Years Ago**

**RPOV**

The black water of the warm ocean seemed to caress me as I carefully made my way through the surf to the dark, deserted beach. Through my peripheral vision, I could see identical figures like myself easing out of the water to either side of me. Reaching the sand, I sprinted toward the foliage and undergrowth that edged the beach. Once under cover, I unpacked my waterproof backpack, quickly and silently assembling the M4 carbine that was inside and pulling on my night vision goggles.

Checking my compass, I moved through the forest to the designated rendezvous point, arriving the same time as the five other men of the 75th Ranger Regiment did. Our mission was to infiltrate the compound of a known drug lord, seize him, and get out. Our asset on the ground had assured us he was on the island tonight. It was a little under a klick from our current position, and with some silent hand gestures, I fell behind the senior NCO, Watson, who took point.

We moved as stealthily as possible through the trees and foliage, fanning out behind the point and keeping our eyes peeled for any sentries.

Watson held up his left fist and we all silently dropped, blending into the night with our black gear. Watching closely, I saw Watson crouch down and aim his rifle. After a few moments, he fired a single shot. The noise-suppressor on the carbine caused the only sound to be a slight _pop_ and that could barely be heard unless you were close. Standing, he began walking again, motioning with his left hand for us to follow.

This was my first deployment in a special op as a Ranger. I wasn't nervous, but anticipation and tension thrummed in my veins. I had to be careful not to let it make me jumpy, but make the adrenaline channel into a calm alertness. If I reacted too quickly or moved too fast, I could alert someone to our presence and compromise the entire mission.

Two more sentries were dispatched much the same way in the next thirty minutes until, finally, we stood looking into a compound lavish by even the most exorbitant luxury standards. We'd been fully briefed on the layout and knew that the master bedroom was on the top floor in the southwest corner. Watson and I were to capture the target while the other two provided cover and backup.

We stole silently across the grounds, watching for any movement from the house. All was quiet. Our asset had promised to disarm the security on the house and we all tensely waited as Watson's hand slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. When no sound erupted into the night, I quietly let out my breath.

Moving into the house, I could detect noise and laughing coming from below us. That would be the distraction for the numerous guards and underlings. A few local girls hired to entertain for the evening.

I followed Watson across the foyer and up the stairs, our flexible soled boots making no noise on the polished wooden staircase. We edged down the hall, pausing before open doors to make sure the rooms were empty. When he reached the master, Watson gave me a signal and I stood on the opposite side from him, removing my night-vision goggles. This was the most dangerous part. If someone was waiting on the other side, first in would be hit.

Watson turned the knob and pushed the door slightly, pressing back against the wall and waiting for a moment, then opening it further and stepping inside.

The room was spacious, elaborately decorated and with thick carpeting under my boots. A veranda was open to the outdoors, the gauzy curtains looking ghostly as they lifted inward with the slight breeze. A huge bed stood in the corner and it was there that Watson crept. He'd pulled out his Beretta now, also with a noise-suppressor. I followed him, my eyes moving back and forth around the room, watching for anything that would threaten us.

Two figures lay sleeping in the bed. Watson's hand moved to cover the man's mouth at the same time as his Beretta pressed against the side of his head. The man jerked awake but froze when he saw Watson.

Watson slowly removed his hand from the man's mouth and crooked his finger in the universal symbol for "come." The man's now frantic eyes flicked to the woman asleep beside him. I stood on the other side of the bed, my own Beretta millimeters from her head.

Watson repeated the gesture, his face emotionless.

The man, Manuel Ortega, got up from the bed, being careful to not wake his wife. Watson motioned with the gun and Ortega walked in front of him towards the door. I followed them.

The smallest of noises alerted me. I turned swiftly to see the woman in the bed had sat up and now had a gun leveled at me. My instincts took over and I fired one round into her forehead. She jerked and her body fell back lifeless on the bed.

Ortega shouted and when I turned back to them, saw that he was wrestling with Watson for his gun. I couldn't get a clear shot and suddenly Watson was dead on the floor.

The door burst open and a younger man came through. He wasn't Mexican but Ortega fired off a rapid volley of Spanish at him. Ortega aimed the gun at me and I dived for cover. I didn't want to shoot him – our mission was to take him alive. I radioed for backup, hoping the noise hadn't alerted the guards partying below.

Aiming my gun, I squeezed off a shot and was gratified to see Ortega bellow in pain, clutching his arm. His hand had automatically dropped the weapon.

The young man seemed to notice the dead woman in the bed. With a roar of fury, the young man suddenly launched himself at me, recklessly tackling me to the floor and pinning my gun beneath me.

Ortega started yelling again, telling the man to run, escape. I remembered that Ortega had an adopted son named Miguel. He threw a vicious jab to my kidney and ran for the veranda just as Ramirez and Wells came through the bedroom door. Ramirez grabbed Ortega while Wells picked up the gun. I was on my feet and running for the veranda, ignoring the burning in my side.

On the veranda, I was momentarily taken aback to see that it didn't have stairs and yet, the son wasn't there. I was breathing hard from exertion and it took me a second to hear the sound of the zip line. I cursed the fact that I didn't have my goggles on and reached upward searching...there. A nearly invisible zip line ran from the veranda to the edge of the property.

Holstering my Beretta, I yanked off my belt and threw it over the line, wrapping it tightly around both hands. Pushing off from the edge of the stone balustrade, I slid rapidly down the line, gaining speed as the ground flew by beneath me.

Wary of what awaited me, I judged my timing and ditched the line about ten feet from the woods, dropping and rolling to absorb the impact. Listening, I could hear rapid movement through the woods. It must be the son. I took off after him, radioing my position as I ran.

The branches and undergrowth tore at me as I moved as swiftly as I could. Sounds in the forest were muted and as I crashed through, the only sound I could hear was my own breathing and those made by the man I followed.

I gained on him and finally tackled him, wanting to take him alive. He twisted underneath me as we flew through the air and I saw the glint of a knife. We hit the ground and I locked my hand on his wrist. Rolling in the dirt, we grappled, each of us fighting for our life. Bringing his elbow up, he shoved it into my jaw and I tasted blood. But the motion had cost him leverage and I pushed the knife into his gut.

He froze, his eyes wide in surprise and pain as he looked at me. I sucked in gulps of air, my muscles tense with adrenaline. A crashing blow landed on the back of my head and everything went black.

When I woke, he was gone.

**Present Day**

**RPOV**

I stood motionless in the street, staring after the motorcycle, the image of Stephanie's face burned in my mind. She trusted him. It had been plainly written on her face. They were close – physically. She'd had no qualms about touching him or pulling her skirt up to straddle the bike behind him.

I fought for control. Every muscle in my body straining to do something, hit something, hurt someone like I was hurting. I'd never felt like this. Not even when I'd seen her with Morelli. I hadn't liked it, but I'd accepted it. Now it felt as though something precious had been stolen, snatched away from me. Jealousy ate at me like a living thing. Stephanie was mine and I'd be damned if some punk was going to come along and steal her in three fucking months. Stephanie and I had a history. She'd been mine for a long time, though I'd only just realized it.

I headed back to the hotel, showered and checked my email. Nothing yet, but it would come. I fell asleep with images in my head tormenting me, images of Stephanie naked, her head thrown back in passion, clutching a nude man to her as he moved between her legs.

I was jolted awake a few hours later by my cell. Grabbing it, I punched a button.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Hey, Boss," Bobby said. "Didn't mean to wake you, but I thought you'd want to see this."

I was instantly awake, sitting up in the bed.

"What is it?"

"We got a hit on Steph. I'm sending the pictures now."

Hurriedly climbing out of bed, I pulled up my email on my laptop, watching as a new message downloaded.

"And Boss," Bobby continued, "you're not going to fucking believe who she's with."

**SPOV**

The drive back to Pirate's Cove was exhilarating, as it always was on Michael's motorcycle. He drove with his right hand, his left sliding up and down the bare skin of my thigh. The feelings that had sparked by the side of the pool today came to the surface again now, and I could feel the same heat curling low in my stomach. His palm was rough against my skin and my imagination couldn't help but think of how his hand would feel other places on my body. By the time we pulled into the driveway, I was already at a slow burn.

As he helped me off the bike, our eyes met and something unspoken passed between us. I unconsciously licked my lips, my gaze falling to his mouth. With a low groan, he pulled me to him, our lips meeting in feverish haste.

I couldn't help but think of Ranger. I'd held off so many times when we could have been together. He'd wanted me, I'd always known that. In the end, what had my reluctance to sleep with him gotten me? A heart that had been broken anyway, only without some of the good memories I could have had.

I resolved not to do the same thing with Michael. He may not be The One, but I cared about him and he cared about me. We were young, unattached and strongly attracted to one another - and one or both of us could have been killed tonight. I couldn't think of any reason not to reach for a little bit of happiness while it was being offered to me, and before it was too late.

Our tongues entwined as I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing myself closer to him. His erection brushed against my stomach and I felt an answering heat pool between my legs. Michael's hands moved to the back of my neck, untying my dress until it fell to my waist, baring my breasts. His lips moved down my neck until he reached my breast, palming one, his thumb brushing my aching nipple as he took the other in his mouth. My breath came in pants as he caressed me and I was distantly aware of the sound of the surf pounding against the sand.

Michael's hands fisted in my skirt and he inched it up until I felt his palms brush the backs of my thighs. My skin felt on fire and I craved his touch. Thoughts of Ranger suddenly flew through my mind, and to my dismay, I felt a stinging behind my eyes that I ruthlessly suppressed. Ranger had made his decision. Now I would make mine, and it was to go on with my life.

Michael's fingers hooked the elastic on my panties and pushed until I felt the whisper of the fabric as it fell down to my feet. Warm air caressed my naked skin as Michael bunched my skirt at my waist, his hand slipping between my legs.

"God, Stephanie," he murmured against my lips. "You're so wet."

I couldn't respond, my breath catching as a finger slid inside me. A whimper escaped me when a second finger joined the first, thrusting slowly in and out of me. My knees felt like jelly and I clutched his shoulders to remain on my feet.

Michael suddenly withdrew his hand, hoisting me up in his arms and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist. My hands began working frantically at his belt and I didn't bother paying attention to where he was taking us. He only made it as far as the porch before he sat down on one of the chaise lounge chairs with me straddling him. I'd gotten his pants undone and was relieved and turned on to see he wore nothing underneath. My attention was momentarily caught by a deep, horizontal gash about two inches long low on his abdomen. It looked like whatever had made it had been painful and my fingers gently traced it. His hard cock sprang free of the fabric into my waiting hands and Michael hissed when my fingers closed around him, scar forgotten.

"Sorry I couldn't make it to the bedroom, babe," he ground out, spreading my thighs wide as he settled me over him, pushing inside me in one smooth motion.

A sharp spike of pain went through me at the endearment and I was instantly furious at Ranger. How dare he? Even now, as another man was inside me, I wasn't free of him. Was I destined to be forever in love with him, never able to fully love someone else because a part of me would always long for him? I imagined how Ranger would react to a lovesick woman pining for him, and it wasn't with compassion, but rather disgust and pity. The image in my head of Ranger looking at me with barely disguised contempt made my blood thunder through my veins in anger. I would be rid of him, I vowed. I would drive him out of my head, and fucking Michael seemed the perfect way to start. All Ranger wanted me for was to fuck me? Well, he could get in line.

I ground my hips against Michael's, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. He groaned in response, his hands tightening on my hips and he pushed into me. I tore at his shirt, buttons flying everywhere, until I was able to push it off his shoulders and down his arms.

Michael rocked me forward, his cock pushing against a sensitive spot deep inside me, making me moan in need. He pulled me forward so my breasts were pressed against his chest. I gasped at the feel of my skin against his, my head falling back as his lips moved down my neck.

"Harder," I begged, and he complied, thrusting hard and fast into me until I felt I would break apart. Then I shattered, a scream flying from my lips. And, in that moment, I didn't know if I was screaming in pleasure or in fury.

**RPOV**

I sat unmoving, staring at the pictures displayed on my laptop. They'd been taken tonight, while I'd been canvassing Old Town for Stephanie. Now I knew where she'd been, and I was having a difficult time absorbing it.

She'd been with Michael, of course. The screen of my laptop was littered with photos of them having dinner, talking, laughing. Michael was holding her hand and touching her. There were pictures of them dancing, his hands all over her, kissing her, holding her much too close. I could feel a pulsing in my jaw as my hand moved, relentlessly paging through the photos, committing them to memory. The conversation with Bobby replayed itself in my head.

"His name is Miguel Reynolds Ortega," Bobby said. "Adopted son and only heir to Manuel Ortega." Bobby fell silent, waiting.

Holy fucking shit.

"The same one that got away ten years ago?" I asked, desperate for Bobby to deny it.

"Yeah, Boss. The one and same. And he's been busy since daddy went to prison."

"Tell me."

"After he disappeared, no one heard from him for several months. When he emerged, his father's empire was already being broken apart and gobbled up by rivals. Miguel, or Michael as he goes by now, joined forces with Franco Aldalpe and his cartel. He worked for them for a couple of years, then organized a coup within the organization. Some say he offed Franco himself. Whatever he did, no one crossed him after that and he began his quest to regain his father's empire. Over the last few years, the Feds have suspected him of taking over numerous cartels, but haven't been able to find anyone that's willing to betray him. Out of fear or loyalty, no one knows."

Bobby said he'd send more information via email and I gladly hung up.

Flipping again through the now memorized and hated pictures, I wondered if Stephanie knew who he was. Somehow, I doubted it. Guys like Michael Ortega didn't willingly tell their business secrets to just anyone. And now Steph was in a hell of a mess, though she didn't know it.

Bitterly, I wondered if this was Fate's retribution. There were hundreds of men on Key West whom Stephanie could have dated. Michael Ortega was one of the single most dangerous men in the western hemisphere.

But so was I.

**SPOV**

I rolled over sleepily in the bed, a satisfied smile curving my lips. Michael slept beside me. He'd carried me upstairs where we'd made love again in his bed. Afterwards, he'd thrown a sheet over our naked bodies and I'd drifted off, curled in his arms.

Now, it was warm in here and I couldn't go back to sleep. I thought a shower might help me feel less sticky, so I crept out of bed and tiptoed my way into the bathroom. A few minutes later, I was standing under a strong spray of hot water in Michael's shower.

I reached for the soap and froze.

Bulgari.

My hand shook as, almost unconsciously, I picked up the bottle. I carefully opened the cap and brought it to my nose, closing my eyes as I inhaled the fragrance.

My eyes stung with tears and this time I let them fall. The bottle slipped from my nerveless fingers and fell unheeded to the floor. Sinking down, I sat on the shower floor, my knees tucked to my chest, and sobbed.

Regret ate at me like a living thing and I hated it. I didn't want Ranger to still have this power over me. I had no doubt that he was moving on with his life, 1,300 miles away in Trenton, and no doubt glad to be rid of the ball and chain around his neck known as Stephanie Plum.

Michael was a good man. I was lucky to have found him. He deserved better than a girlfriend who was still in love with someone else.

The sobs wracked my body and I couldn't seem to stop, water mingling with the tears on my face. The Bulgari had spilled and now the smell surrounded me. It seemed as if Ranger himself were there with me, my imagination painting his face in shadows of disappointment and judgment.

My soul felt ripped in two, part of me wanting desperately to move on, the other part needing Ranger so badly it was a physical pain. At this moment, I didn't think there was anything I wouldn't do to just hear his voice again.

Hands touched me and I jumped, a scream ripping from my lips.

"Shh, sweetheart, it's just me."

Michael was there. He'd opened the shower door and crouched down next to me. Oh God, the last thing I wanted him to see was me crying.

"What's the matter?" he asked, gently brushing my wet hair out of my face. I shook my head.

"I don't want to talk about it." My voice was small and hoarse and I couldn't look him in the eyes for the guilt I was feeling.

He seemed to accept that, instead of asking more questions, he simply stood, pulling me up with him and wrapping his arms around me. I rested my face against his chest.

The water sprayed over both of us, warming me, and Michael's hand rubbed soothingly up and down my back. I thought again of how lucky I was. Not many men would be okay with finding their girlfriend crying after making love.

I pressed my lips to his chest, tracing the contours with my tongue. His breath hissed between his teeth and I felt his cock harden against my stomach.

Michael lifted me unceremoniously against the shower wall, opening my legs and thrusting inside. My mouth found his, my whimper swallowed in our kiss. Wrapping my legs around him, I clutched his shoulders as he moved inside me.

His thrusts were slow and deep, intended to drive me to the edge and keep me there. Finally, I was begging him to let me come and sobbed with relief when he moved hard and fast. Stars exploded behind my eyes and I cried out. Michael's hands dug into my rear as he came inside me.

Lowering my legs back to the floor, Michael held on to me until I was sure I could stand. He kissed me again before grabbing the soap and washing gently between my legs.

"I'll be out in a few minutes," he said as I got out of the shower and wrapped myself in a voluminous robe.

At this point, I was really thirsty and decided to head downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water. A single light burned in the kitchen, enough to see by. Grabbing a glass, I filled it with ice and water from the refrigerator and drank it greedily down. I refilled it, drinking it more slowly this time and wandered back to the living room.

Pausing, I looked out the windows. The moon was full and its light played on the waves. It was beautiful. I tried not to think about all that had tormented me in the shower. My emotions were too raw, my peace of mind too fragile to contemplate my choices at the moment. What was done was done. I just had to learn to live without Ranger and there was really nothing else to be said.

Plopping down on the couch, I tucked my feet up under me and grabbed the remote to flip on the TV. In the dark, it was hard to see the controls, so I guessed at which one was the power and pressed it. To my surprise, it didn't turn on the TV but a door slid silently open in the wall next to it.

For a moment, I just sat there. Michael hadn't said anything about this. Curiosity finally got the better of me and I got up and walked to the door.

It was dark inside but lights turned on when I stepped through the doorway. I jumped in surprise before realizing that no one was with me – there must be a sensor or something.

I looked around the room.

My glass fell from my hand and shattered on the concrete floor.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

**SPOV**

Guns. The room was full of guns. So many of them, I couldn't begin to count them all. And not the kind I've had the misfortune of having to carry, but the real nasty ones. Long, machine guns that looked heavier than I could hold. They lined the walls while smaller handguns sat in cases. It was a complete arsenal and my shock morphed into fear.

"Who the fuck are you?"

I spun around, surprised at the guttural voice, and saw a huge man standing in the doorway holding one of those mammoth machine guns. And it was pointed at me. My heart seemed to stutter in my chest as I stared at the gun. Instinctively, I stepped backward. My foot slipped on the spilled water, and with a cry, I fell, my head hitting the concrete floor with a loud _crack!_ Everything went black.

I came awake slowly, a splitting headache making me groan in pain.

"Stephanie, are you all right?"

Michael's voice made my eyes fly open. I was in a car. Raising a hand to my aching head, I realized a towel was wrapped around my right arm.

"What happened?" I asked shakily.

"You fell and hit your head," Michael said grimly, glancing at me before returning his eyes to the road. "When you did that, you also cut your arm pretty badly on the glass. I'm taking you to the hospital. It's going to need stitches."

Memory suddenly came back to me and I gasped, fear gripping me as I remembered the hidden arsenal in Michael's home and the huge guy waving the massive gun at me. I looked over at Michael, wondering if I should be afraid of him. He glanced at me again and his lips thinned.

"Don't look at me like that," he said hoarsely. "Don't be afraid of me. I didn't mean for you to find out like that."

"Find out what? That you're a criminal?" I said in disbelief. I could feel the pain in my arm now and it hurt like a bitch. Blood had started to seep through the towel and I made the mistake of unwinding it from my arm. When I got a good look at the savage cut in my skin, I immediately felt lightheaded.

Just then Michael whipped into the emergency lane at the hospital and jammed the car to a stop. Leaping out, he was around to my door in a flash, opening my door and helping me out.

"Please," he said, taking me by the shoulders to face him, "let's get your stitches and your head looked at, then we'll talk about this, okay?"

I looked up at him, his eyes intent on mine. I didn't know what to think or do. The pain in my head and my arm was clouding my thoughts. I couldn't think straight.

"Trust me, Stephanie."

Unsure if I was doing the right thing or not, I gave in, nodding a little and he sighed in relief. Wrapping a supportive arm around my waist, he took me inside.

An hour later, I'd had a CAT scan for my head and was being stitched up by a nurse. Michael stood at my shoulder. He hadn't left my side the entire time. I was running on adrenaline, still jittery and jumping at every little thing.

The nurse assisting was looking at me strangely. I glanced up and met her eyes, quickly looking away. Her staring was making me uncomfortable.

The needle holding the anesthetic pricked my skin and I winced. Michael's hand squeezed my shoulder and I jumped. The nurse's gaze sharpened on me.

"Sir," she said suddenly, "can I ask you to come sign the dismissal forms for us while the stitches are being done?"

Michael seemed loath to leave, catching my gaze, and I nodded at him.

"It's okay," I said. "I'll be fine."

Michael reluctantly followed the nurse out the door. I breathed a little more easily when he was gone. His attentiveness was bordering on smothering. After a moment, the nurse stitching my arm spoke.

"I want you to know that we have programs that can help, places you can go, that will keep you safe," she said quietly, her eyes still on her work.

"What?" I asked, taken aback.

"If there are...domestic problems," she clarified. "Between you and your boyfriend." She looked up then. "You don't have to stay with him."

Understanding finally dawned. "This really was an accident," I stammered, embarrassed by her assumption. "He didn't do this to me."

Her eyes said she didn't believe me, but she said nothing more and went back to her work. I realized then that the other nurse must have deliberately taken Michael out of the room so they could get me alone. How embarrassing. I felt my face flush.

"Do you know very much about the man you're with?" she asked.

"Not a lot, no," I answered ruefully, realizing there had been a really big thing about him I hadn't known. If only I hadn't been so wrapped up in myself these past few months, I would have questioned him more closely. He was too young to be so wealthy, no matter what he said about a thriving imports business. Maybe I just hadn't wanted to look a gift horse in the mouth. Michael had made me happy and I'd clung to that, willingly blinding myself to the things that would normally have sent up red flags.

"Do you know him?" I asked, realizing this might be a golden opportunity to find out more.

"Everyone knows him," she said matter-of-factly, "the locals anyway." She glanced nervously at the open door, then back at me. Lowering her voice, she continued, "He's a dangerous, ruthless man. No one interferes with him. No one dares."

I couldn't believe it. She had to be wrong. Michael wasn't like that. He was sweet and caring, gentle and generous. He'd taken me for walks on the beach and sailing. We'd danced and kissed and made love.

"He's not like that," I defended him. "You don't know him." Her face whitened.

"You won't tell him what I said, will you?" she asked frantically. "I meant no harm. Please, tell me you won't." Grasping my hand, she squeezed it tightly, her eyes wide in fear.

"I won't, I promise," I said quickly, anything to get her to stop begging me and looking terrified. She seemed relieved which confused me even more. The Michael I knew couldn't inspire that much fear in someone, could he?

This couldn't be over fast enough and I willed her to hurry, carefully looking away as she placed the remaining stitches.

Twenty minutes later, Michael was driving us back to his house. I leaned my head back on the seat. I was exhausted. The earlier adrenaline had worn off, leaving me feeling sapped of energy.

"Who was the guy?" I asked, knowing Michael would know who I was talking about.

"A guard," he answered. "His name is Luis. I apologize that he did that – I was remiss in not informing my guards of your presence."

"Guards?" I asked. There was more than one?

"I have several throughout the grounds." He glanced at me, then back at the dark road where the headlights of the Porsche cut through the inky blackness as he drove. "I'm a wealthy man and a target. They help keep me safe."

I digested this for a moment. "Why are you a target?" I finally asked, my voice small in the car. I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer and I couldn't look at him, looking instead out the window and seeing my own pale image reflected back at me in the glass. It took him a while before he spoke.

"Because I deal in narcotics," he finally answered bluntly.

My heart sank and I buried my face in my hands. I'd known, somewhere in the back of my mind, once I'd seen the guns. I hadn't wanted to think about it, believe it. My chest constricted and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"Stop the car!" I said urgently, scrabbling for the handle. The car screeched to a halt on the deserted road. Pushing the door open, I stumbled out, gasping for air. I felt hands touching my shoulders and I slapped them away, swiftly turning around.

"Don't touch me!" I cried, stepping back away from Michael. The pain in his eyes sent a stab through me which I tried to ignore, holding on to my anger. "How could you not tell me?" That's what I wanted to know the most. I wouldn't, couldn't believe he'd deliberately lied to me.

"Please, Stephanie," he begged, "listen to me. In my world, women want me for my money or the power I wield. They're not really interested in me as a person. I watched my mom fall in love with my stepdad without knowing what he did, who he was. She loved him so much that she didn't care, even after she found out." He spread his arms wide as he talked to me, slowly walking closer. "She was killed trying to protect him and he would have done anything for her.

"All I wanted was the same thing," he said, his voice quiet, "a woman who loves me for me, not because of who I am or what I have. And someone who wouldn't hold it against me either."

I searched his eyes, which seemed to plead for me to believe him. My heart, already so fragile and bruised, seemed to ache again as I looked at him. He seemed so sincere – I wanted to believe him. Of all people, I knew what it felt like to want to be loved for who you were and not have someone hold your failings against you. I thought bitterly of Ranger and how maybe, if I hadn't been totally incompetent in everything I touched, he'd have thought me worthy of including in his life and not just in his bed.

"I was going to tell you," he said, moving closer, "I just wanted you to know me first. I knew that if you knew what I did," his hands grasped mine, "then I wouldn't have a chance with you. That night, when I first saw you crying on the beach, I wanted to protect you, make you smile. It seemed too good to be true that you didn't know why I was. I couldn't make myself tell you, not when you looked at me like I was saving you."

I swallowed hard, remembering that night. The pain from Ranger's rejection had been so fresh, Michael had in fact seemed like a Godsend. I should have known he was too good to be true.

"Michael, what you do is illegal," I protested. "I can't just ignore that. I wasn't brought up that way."

"It's illegal for now," he argued, "but who knows in the future? Alcohol was illegal for a time, too, and bootleggers took care of supplying the demand. That's all I'm doing, Steph. If it's not me, it'll be somebody else. My not doing it isn't going to make it go away."

I searched his eyes and could tell he believed every word. I was struggling with how I felt about this. It's not like I'd spent a great deal of time pondering the moral implications of drugs and who supplied them. It was illegal and that was that. There had been a "war on drugs" for as far back as I could remember. The cynical side of me sort of agreed with Michael – if he didn't supply drugs, it's not like someone else wouldn't step up to take his place.

It was ironic, my being in this situation. For so long I had struggled with Ranger's way of life, his rules and methods maybe morally right, but legally grey. Now I was involved with someone so far on the wrong side of the law, I had trouble wrapping my mind around it. I wondered if this was karma for me, life's way of having a last laugh at my expense. I cared about Michael, had come to rely on him way too much, if truth were told. And leaving him scared me. Where else would I go? Would he even let me go? I was already running from one man, I didn't think I had it in me to run from another. And maybe this was the best I could do, a drug smuggler who could provoke terror in anyone – from an armed mugger to a random nurse. What would happen if I provoked him? What was he capable of? I didn't think I was brave enough to find out.

"We have something, Steph," he said, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of my face. "You know we do. Let's give it a chance. Give me a chance."

He waited silently for my decision as I argued with myself. I wondered what Ranger would think, and didn't have to wonder long. I knew exactly what his reaction would be – pissed off. Ranger would be furious with me if he knew. Maybe it would hurt him, my being with someone so anathema to his beliefs. I inwardly cringed a little even as a part of me desperately wanted to hurt Ranger as much as he'd hurt me. And here it was being handed to me, but not without a price - retribution in exchange for my soul.

"Okay, Michael." I heard the words coming out of my mouth and only now did I belatedly realize that my relationship with Michael was a lot more about Ranger than I had been willing to admit.

Then Michael was kissing me in the middle of the empty highway as the moon shone down from the night sky. I wondered fatalistically how long I could survive life with him, and if I even wanted to anymore.

**RPOV**

I slept fitfully when I finally did fall asleep, and was awake before dawn. I threw on some shorts and tennis shoes and went for a run along the beach, watching the sun rise as I ran. Running helped me think. I needed both supplies and information and would get in touch with a contact on the island later this morning.

When I got back to the hotel, I was hot and sweaty so I took a quick shower, pulling on some lightweight loose-fitting pants and a shirt that covered my gun which I stuck in the back of my pants. My cell phone rang.

"Hey, Boss," Bobby said. "Got some intel overnight, sending it to you now."

"What is it?" I asked, booting up my laptop.

"Um, yeah, well, um, it's, um," Bobby stammered. A flicker of irritation went through me.

"Spit it out, Bobby," I interrupted him.

"Yeah, it's a hospital report, Boss," he said quickly. "Stephanie was in the emergency room last night."

I froze for a moment before replying, struggling to keep my voice even. "What happened?"

"She was seen for a head injury and a cut to her right forearm which took twenty-three stitches." He paused. "The additional notes on the report say the attending nurse suspected domestic abuse."

White hot fury filled me and I gripped the phone tightly. I couldn't speak.

"Boss? You there?"

"Yeah," I managed to grit out.

"The file should be in your email by now," Bobby said.

"Did you send me everything we have on Ortega?"

"That's affirm," he answered. "Also sent you the contact info for the local DEA guys down there. Might want to get in touch with them and see what open investigations they have on him."

"Agreed," I said. I had opened up the file on Stephanie and was glancing through it. "Call me when you know more."

I hung up the phone and turned my full attention to the file. To my disappointment, it didn't list a current address. However, there was a place of employment. Surprisingly enough, a Cuban restaurant I'd frequented before. Stephanie had never told her mom many details about where she worked, just that she was waiting tables.

Continuing through the file, I stopped when I reached the photos. There were several shots of an angry, deep cut on her forearm, like someone had come at her with a knife and she'd thrown up her arm to defend herself. My jaw clenched tightly as the images accompanying this scenario filled my mind.

My eyes devoured the pictures, even if they were just of her arm. It was the first time I'd laid eyes on her in any fashion since I'd thought she'd burned to death. I found my finger lightly tracing the curve of her arm on the monitor, almost as if I could feel her skin if I just imagined hard enough.

I turned back to the file, reading the hand written notes. The nurse had maintained she'd spoken with Stephanie, offering her information and a safe haven should she want to leave her partner. Stephanie had denied that Michael had anything to do with her injuries, maintaining that she'd "slipped and fallen."

I wondered if Stephanie had found out about Michael, and if he had threatened to hurt her if she left. The very thought of someone trying to keep Stephanie against her will, especially a cold-blooded drug lord like Michael, made my hands itch to tear him apart.

I had to get her away from him. Even if she no longer wanted me, the life of a drug lord was dangerous, and knowing Stephanie's luck, would shorten her life expectancy by decades.

Grabbing my cell, I dialed the number of our DEA contact. I got his voice mail and left a message. I then read through what Bobby had sent me about Michael. It looked like he'd stayed up most of the night to gather the information.

It seemed Michael ruled his empire with an iron fist. The consolidation of so many cartels under one man, and a young one at that, was an amazing feat. As a rule, people in that trade tended to be greedy and untrustworthy. He'd managed to achieve a relative peace, the constant bloodshed and infighting among competing cartels coming to a standstill under his authority.

My cell phone rang, the caller ID proclaiming it to be the DEA contact I'd left a message with earlier.

"Ranger," he said, "good to hear from you! It's been a while."

"Yeah, O'Malley, it has." I'd done Frank O'Malley a favor, once upon a time, and he'd returned it. Our friendship had continued as occasionally we'd had need of the other's services. As a lifelong DEA agent, I knew he'd have information that I wouldn't have access to, even with my connections to the military.

"What can I do for you?" he asked. I liked that about O'Malley, right to the point. He knew I wasn't calling to ask him how his wife and kids were doing.

"I need information," I answered, "on a Michael Reynolds Ortega, currently residing in Key West, I believe."

A low whistle greeted my words. "Any particular reason you need to know about him? He's one nasty sonofabitch, Ranger; I wouldn't get involved with him unless it's unavoidable."

"I wouldn't be asking otherwise."

He sighed. "That's too bad. Okay, well, we have a constant surveillance on him, as much as we can. He has private property out on Sugarloaf Key that he keeps very well guarded, has it swept for bugs at least once a week. We suspect him of being the one controlling all access points for the Mexican cartels into the US through Florida and the Keys. Of course, we've never been able to nail him on anything, but we keep trying."

"I've noticed it's been kind of quiet the past few years," I said.

"Yeah, he maintains tight control. Smart motherfucker, too. Went to Yale, got a degree, then proceeded to take over the cartels, starting with regaining his stepfather's. If you're loyal, he pays well and provides for your family if you're killed in the line of work. If you betray him, he'll feed you to the fucking sharks, one piece at a time."

"Where is he now?"

"Been coming into town a lot lately," O'Malley answered. "Got a new girlfriend. We think she moved in to his place yesterday. Don't know how long this one will last."

My blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"

"His women always seem to end up dead," he clarified. "Nothing we can pinpoint to him. Car accident got one, another died from a hit and run, the last one supposedly committed suicide six months ago.

"So what's going on, Ranger?" O'Malley asked. "Why the interest in Ortega?"

I gripped the phone tightly, the new information making it even more imperative that I have as many allies as possible. I decided to come clean.

"Because the woman he's with now is mine, and I intend to get her back."

**SPOV**

Michael wanted me to call in for work, but I insisted on going in. He really wanted me to quit my job entirely but I just couldn't do that. I needed the space, the time to think. So he drove me in, promising to pick me up after the dinner shift.

My head felt better and my arm wasn't too bad. I figured, so long as I didn't try to carry too many things at once, I'd be fine. I could almost pretend my life hadn't taken a completely different turn yesterday while I was here at the restaurant, surrounded by the usual locals.

I'd slept fitfully last night after we'd finally gotten back from the hospital. My dreams had been disturbing. I'd dreamt Michael and I were making love, and I spotted Ranger watching from a dark corner in the room. His face registered only disgust as he watched us, before finally turning to leave. I'd cried out for him then, but he hadn't looked back, exiting the room without a backward glance.

I'd woken up then, sitting straight up in bed, gasping for air, my face wet with tears. Michael had woken as well and I allowed him to pull me into his arms, settling back against the pillows and resting my head on his chest.

His hand rubbed my back gently as we lay quietly in the dark. I tried to not think about everything I'd learned tonight about Michael and just feel instead. His arms around me made me feel protected and cherished, everything I hadn't felt in my too real dream.

"Who is Ranger?" Michael's voice was soft as he asked the question, and his hand didn't stop its soothing motion up and down my back.

My stomach did a flip flop. I hadn't heard Ranger's name spoken in months. I wasn't prepared for how much it hurt.

"No one," I whispered, still shaken from the dream.

"You screamed his name," Michael persisted gently. "Can't you talk to me about it?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, a few tears leaking out in spite of myself, falling onto Michael's chest. He waited patiently.

"He's...an ex, I guess, sort of," I finally said. "Someone I knew back in Trenton. I thought...that he loved me. And he did, maybe, in his own way."

"What happened?"

Maybe it was because it was dark, or maybe it was because Michael wasn't demanding an explanation, just quietly listening, but I answered him.

"He decided he didn't want me anymore," I said simply, the words I'd only thought for so long just now making their way past my lips. Pain tore through me again and I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, refusing to cry. I had shed enough tears over Ranger to last a lifetime.

"Then he was a fool," Michael said matter-of-factly, holding me more tightly. I turned to look up at him and he wiped the tears from my cheeks before giving me a heartbreakingly tender kiss.

I thought of that as I wiped down tables from the dinner rush. Michael was a dichotomy. On one hand, apparently a criminal and drug lord with the capability of instilling fear in anyone, but on the other hand, a kind and gentle man who had taken care of me and treated me better than most men I'd been with. But a part of me still couldn't help wondering when, not if, I would see his other side, and if I would survive it.

There was no way out, and I was honest enough with myself to know it. Michael wasn't going to let me go, no matter what he said to the contrary. I knew too much about him already.

"Excuse me," a voice behind me said, "but are you Stephanie Plum?"

Surprised, I turned around. A man stood there, as tall as me, with a no-nonsense expression on his face. Glancing down, I saw he wore a polo shirt and khaki pants, as well as a holster and gun.

"Who wants to know?" I asked. He flipped out his wallet to me, and I sucked in my breath when I saw the badge.

"Special Agent O'Malley, DEA," he answered. "Are you Stephanie Plum?"

I nodded numbly. Grabbing a set of handcuffs from behind his back, he slapped one on my wrist. I looked at it, stunned.

"You're being arrested on charges of conspiracy to transport illegal drugs in the state of Florida. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

He'd turned me around now, cuffing my arms behind my back. Everyone had stopped their conversation and was staring at me. I felt my face turn red.

"What is going on?" I asked, finally finding my voice. "I haven't done anything wrong!" I thought frantically if this was because of my involvement with Michael. Did they think I knew something?

The Agent ignored me, pushing me forward so I was forced to walk or fall. I kept my gaze averted as I passed people, so many of whom I'd come to know on a first-name basis these past several weeks. It was humiliating.

Outside, night had fallen and I stumbled on the step down into the parking lot. Instead of leading me to the car I saw waiting, he took me around to the side of the building, guiding me into the small, darkened alley between the restaurant and the shop next door.

"Wait! Stop! Where are you taking me?" I tried to stop moving but he kept pushing me. Panic was starting to creep in. This wasn't the usual procedure, I knew that. Taking a suspect to a back alley wasn't something the good guys usually did. It was usually a prelude to something very, very bad.

Finally, we stopped. I was breathing hard and shaking from fear and adrenaline. The alley was only dimly lit, light reflecting weakly through the small glass windows on either side.

I felt the Agent's hands do something at my wrists then to my surprise, the cuffs fell away with a metallic _clank_.

"She's all yours," he said cryptically. I spun around, but he was already moving back out of the alley the way we'd come.

A soft noise directly behind me made me freeze, terror gripping me. I was too afraid to turn around. My hands clenched into fists as I thought frantically.

Through the evening breeze, I caught a scent on the air and suddenly I knew who was behind me.

I slowly turned around, a shaft of light illuminating a face I thought I'd never see again.

"Ranger."


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

**RPOV**

For a moment, I didn't speak. The fact that she was here, beautiful and alive, my name on her lips, temporarily made me lose the power of speech. I vividly remembered that horrible day three months ago when I had thought she was lost to me forever. My throat closed and I had to swallow hard. The urge to take her in my arms was nearly overwhelming, and I clenched my hands into fists to stop them from reaching for her.

"What are you doing here, Ranger?" she asked, her voice like chipped ice.

"Looking for you," I answered, my voice hoarse, but steady, thank God.

"How did you find me?"

Ah, better not go there. She was already pissed, and she had every right to be, I reminded myself. The last words she'd heard out of my mouth had been brutal to her.

"You like the ocean," I said by way of deflection. I stepped closer to her, my feet moving seemingly of their own volition. She took a step backward, wariness coming into her eyes, and I felt it as if she'd struck me. Never before had she been afraid of me, afraid I would hurt her. But she was now. I stopped moving, keeping my distance.

"What do you want, Ranger?" Her voice had a nervous edge now, her eyes darting anxiously, looking everywhere but at me. My gaze caught on the bandage on her arm.

"Did Michael do that to you?" I asked in a rougher tone than I had meant to use. She looked down at where I was pointing.

"Of course n—". I saw comprehension dawn on her face, followed swiftly by anger. Shit.

"How do you know about Michael?" she demanded. I decided to lay it all on the table.

"I know everything about Michael," I answered evenly. "More, I'm sure, than you know about him. The only way I could even get you out of that restaurant was by having you arrested. He's got two guards covering you at all times."

"So I have you to thank for that particular humiliation?" she said furiously. "Is that why you're here? To save me again? Maybe I don't want to be saved, Ranger."

"You don't know who he is, what he does," I shot back.

"Oh yes, I do," she retorted. "Weren't you the one telling me for so long that you live by your own set of rules? Well, so does he."

"He's a fucking drug lord, Stephanie," I bit out, unwilling to believe she knew that fact.

"And damn good at it, from what the locals say," she snapped. I stared at her for a moment, and she must have seen the surprise I couldn't hide on my face because she laughed bitterly. "Ironic, right? I always gave you such a hard time for how you never played by the rules, and now I'm fucking a drug lord."

The venomous words fell on my ears like poison darts, skillfully wounding their intended target. Images from my nightmare last night ran through my head. Stephanie in another man's arms, another man moving inside her. And not just anyone, but a vile, repulsive excuse for a man that would corrupt her innocence and abuse her trust.

Much like I had, a small voice whispered in my mind.

I was on her before I could stop myself, my hands closing on her upper arms and I shook her slightly.

"You don't know what you're playing with," I gritted out. "He's going to get you killed."

She remained unrepentantly defiant even as I loomed over her. "Ask me if I care," she said in a cold and detached sort of way.

I was so shocked, I just stared at her, our eyes locked together in the tension-filled alley. I searched her eyes for the woman I had known, a part of me dying inside as Stephanie's words tumbled through my head.

"Please, Steph," I whispered, agony twisting in my gut. "Tell me you don't mean that." The intensity of my words seemed to surprise her, and for a fleeting moment, I saw something in her eyes. Fear and a pain that matched my own. Then it was gone as if it had never been, anger taking its place.

"Go home, Ranger," she said with a humorless smile. Then she twisted the knife a little bit more. "You're not wanted here."

I was desperate for my Stephanie, the one I was now afraid was gone forever, murdered by my own careless words and selfishness. With a groan of near pain, I crushed my mouth to hers, pulling her into me. She fought me like an enraged cat, twisting and pulling away until I pressed her against the wall, forcing my knee between her legs and holding her head prisoner between my palms. Her fists beat at my arms, but I barely felt them.

She still rebelled against me even though she couldn't move away, refusing to kiss me back. My thumbs stroked her cheekbones as I gentled my kiss, coaxing her to respond. My tongue traced the seam of her lips until, with a whimper of submission and the ever so slight relaxing of her body, she opened her mouth just a fraction, but it was enough. My tongue surged inside, stroking the tender, warm heat of her mouth. My body responded like a flame to tinder, her taste, her scent, everything was as I remembered and I drank it in like a man dying of thirst.

My hands moved down her sides to her waist, and I realized she was thinner than I remembered, her body feeling more frail and breakable in my arms than it ever had.

The preciousness of what I was holding impressed itself on me. It was something I thought I'd never feel again, something I'd so recklessly thrown away. I kissed her like it was the first time and the last time, memorizing every touch, every movement of our bodies, vowing to never again take this woman for granted.

When I finally broke the kiss, we were both breathing hard. I was determined more than ever now to take her with me. She still cared about me, I could feel it.

"God, I've missed you, Babe," I whispered, cradling her cheek in my hand as I gazed into the blue depths of her eyes.

With a sudden shove, she pushed me away. I willingly stepped back, confused as to what was going on, and was completely blindsided by the right hook she landed on my jaw.

**SPOV**

Damn, that hurt! My hand felt like I'd broken a few bones and I cradled it to my chest as I glared at Ranger through the tears in my eyes, furious with him. How dare he? How dare he show up here out of nowhere and try to make me feel something for him again?

I felt like I would shatter at his slightest touch. The way he had kissed me made me want to believe there was more to it than just the physical, more to what he felt for me than what he'd said back in Trenton. But I couldn't afford to hope for that, couldn't stand the pain of hearing the truth again.

"Don't...touch...me," I said, angrily enunciating each word so he'd be sure not to misunderstand. "I'm through playing your games, Ranger." He had the audacity to look confused.

"You remember, right Ranger? You wait until I'm happy with someone else, then come along to toy with me, lure me away. But you don't really want me. You just like the chase. You get off on the unobtainable."

His face seemed to turn to stone at my words, his eyes like chips of granite, but I kept going.

"I'm not falling for it this time," I continued, heedless of the tears spilling down my cheeks. "I'm happy with Michael and I don't give a shit what he does! He treats me well, and get this, actually wants me to be a part of his life!" I laughed. "Can you imagine? Me – reckless, worthless, good at **nothing** Stephanie Plum. So excuse me if I don't fall quivering at your feet like I used to, Ranger. I'm not that naïve anymore."

I almost didn't recognize my own voice, it was so filled with bitterness and anger and resignation. Ranger still didn't speak. He didn't move, didn't so much as blink. He just stood there, taking it as I raged.

"You should be glad to be rid of me, Ranger," I said, my voice quieter but no less filled with fury. "What was it you said? Oh yes, I remember. 'She may end up doing more crazy ass shit like she did last night out of some kind of devotion to me.' That was it, right?"

That got a reaction, a grimace of pain crossing his face.

"Now my 'crazy ass shit' is someone else's problem, as is my devotion. So pack your bags and go home, Ranger. We're done here."

I turned to walk away. His hand shot out, grabbing my arm and jerking me back to him. I caught my breath as I came up hard against his chest. I wanted desperately to get away. I was hanging on by a very thin thread, inches away from breaking down entirely. Only the overriding need to preserve my own dignity was keeping me going.

"I'm not leaving Key West without you," he hissed, his face inches from mine. "I love you and I know you still love me. You can fuck Michael and pretend all you want, but you belong to me."

I jerked my arm out of his grasp, feeling the blood drain from my face. God help me, it was true, every word of it. But I couldn't live with what little Ranger offered me of himself, of his life.

"Go to hell," I said, turning on my heel and walking away as quickly as I could without running. I prayed he wouldn't stop me. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to turn around and go back to him. My resolve may not hold up much longer, self-respect be damned. I held on to my anger. Ranger had used me, toyed with me, had never really wanted me. Not for keeps.

Emerging from the mouth of the alley, I spotted Michael leaning against his car, parked on the opposite side of the narrow street. I made my way to him, trying to calm my nerves and appear as normal as possible.

He'd been talking on his cell phone but quickly hung up when he saw me, jogging across the street to meet me and walking me back to his car.

"What happened?" he asked, tipping my chin up toward his and pushing my hair back from my face. His jaw tightened when he saw the tear stains on my cheeks.

"They said you'd been arrested," he said tightly. "Are you all right?" I nodded.

"Yeah, they, uh, they just wanted to scare me a little, I think," I lied. The last thing Michael needed to know was that Ranger was here. "They let me go."

"They didn't...do...anything to you, did they?" he asked quietly, and I could see the worry in his eyes. I shook my head.

He pulled me into his embrace, holding me tightly. I squeezed my eyes shut, not letting the threatening tears fall.

The skin on the back of my neck tingled. Ranger. It had to be him. Watching, no doubt, from the darkness of the alley.

Anger flared inside me. He'd hurt me again, coming here. And why? Because he thought I was some sort of possession of his. He didn't want me, but didn't want anyone else to have me either.

I didn't think, I just acted. Reaching up, I threaded my fingers in Michael's hair, bringing his mouth down on mine. He seemed surprised, but willingly obeyed, kissing me. I opened my mouth, deepening the kiss. Michael responded hungrily, as I had known he would, his erection pressing against my stomach.

I quickly undid the buttons on his shirt, pushing it open so my hands could touch his skin. He groaned deep in his throat, pulling at my tucked in shirt so he could slide his hands beneath. I moaned, though I felt nothing. All I felt was Ranger's eyes on me and the knot in my stomach that made me want to retch at what I was doing. But I couldn't seem to stop.

Michael lifted me up to sit on the trunk of the car, my legs wrapping around his waist as he tugged off my shirt, tossing it into the open back seat of the convertible and leaving me clad in just my bra and skirt. His head bent to my breasts and I opened my eyes, looking beyond him to the dark mouth of the alley where I knew Ranger still was. There. A flicker of movement.

I felt like my emotions were balancing on the edge of a knife. I'd gone too far to turn back now, the driving need to hurt Ranger overwhelming me. I tugged impatiently at Michael's belt. His hand caught mine, stilling it.

"Wait, Steph, you want to do this here? Now?"

"Right here. Right now," I said. There was no one around. The narrow street empty except for us. And Ranger, though Michael didn't know it. Thick trees and bushes lined the street so no one looking out from their house could see us. This show was just for Ranger. The mere thought made me want to weep, but I kept going.

Michael pushed my skirt up, bunching it around my waist. The evening air caressed me, cooling my heated skin. He pressed me back onto the trunk, licking his way down my body. I buried my hands in his hair as his tongue teased my navel. His fingers caught the straps of my panties and tugged them over my hips, down and off my legs.

Pushing my legs up, Michael bent my knees and I braced my feet on the trunk, parting my thighs for him. He groaned deep in his throat at the sight, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my skin, moving slowly up my inner thigh. He plunged two fingers into me and I arched my back in surprise at the sudden intrusion, a low keening noise coming from my throat.

Licking his way toward my clit, I realized he was going to use his mouth on me, which, if I remembered correctly, had been one of Ranger's favorite things to do. And he'd been very good at it.

I buried my hands in Michael's hair as he kissed me, turning my head to the side and staring at the darkened alley, feeling Ranger's gaze. I wanted to simultaneously scream with rage and make him watch Michael fuck me, and also sob in despair and beg his forgiveness.

Michael's was millimeters away from kissing me when I heard the gunshot whiz by overhead.

Michael reacted quicker than me, scooping me off the side of the trunk into the underbrush on the side of the car, turning so he landed on the hard ground instead of me and cradling my body to his chest.

"What...what was that?" I stammered. I couldn't believe that Ranger had shot at us, but he had. Apparently he had wanted to stop us, because if he'd wanted to kill either of us, we'd be dead. Ranger didn't miss.

"Let's get out of here," Michael said, opening the passenger door and helping me in. "Keep your head down," he said, and I obediently crouched down in the seat. He quickly climbed over me, starting the car and throwing it into gear, then he stomped on the gas and we shot down the street.

Looking back, I saw Ranger step out of the alley and stand motionless, staring after us as Michael drove away.

**RPOV**

I stood in the street, watching the car disappear from view, frustration and anger threatening to consume me. My jaw ached from clenching it tightly shut, watching in silence as Stephanie exacted her revenge on me. Little did she realize that the worst had already been done; my believing she had died had hurt me more than anything she could do to me.

Watching her with Michael had hurt me in a different way, because I knew she was **trying** to hurt me. Stephanie wasn't that kind of person, yet she'd pulled out all the stops tonight. And she knew what would get me the most – watching another man touch her, kiss her, take her.

It had taken all my self-control to not kill him. I'd known what she was doing and I'd obediently watched, taking my punishment as my due. But I'd underestimated how strongly I would react, my hands itching to grab my gun when he bent to taste her body. I remembered the feel of her against my tongue, how she writhed in my arms and screamed my name when she came. In the end, I hadn't been able to watch it happen, pulling out my gun and sending a warning shot above his head.

Now I was filled with anger that had no outlet, blood and adrenaline pounding through my veins. A noise behind me made me spin around, my hand automatically going for my gun, but it was kicked out of my hand almost immediately.

A heavyset man stood in front of me, Mexican or Cuban by the darkness of his skin. He was taller than me by several inches and weighing about fifty pounds heavier. Dressed in black, he had a tattoo on his thick bicep and a heavy gold chain around his neck.

"You get off on watching, amigo?" he sneered. "I don't think my boss would like that so much."

He moved toward me menacingly and I backed up a step to a better position in the street, knees bent and ready to counter. Keeping my gaze on him, I saw a movement out of my peripheral vision and reacted quickly, turning to see another man that had been coming at my back.

I ducked just as he swung, throwing my fist into his gut and slicing a nasty uppercut to his jaw. He stumbled backward in surprise just as the first guy landed a blow to my side, spinning my around by my shoulder and getting another jab in to my jaw. I tasted blood inside my mouth.

Taking the hit, I coiled up before sending a couple savage blows to his face. A quick glance told me thug #2 was coming again. The fury that filled me suddenly had a target and I twisted, my leg shooting out and catching him in the side of the knee. He went down hard, yelling in pain and clutching his knee.

With a roar, the other guy grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. I snapped my head back, hearing the crack of his nose breaking and I was abruptly released.

I spun around to see him going for his gun. I leaped forward, seizing his wrist to keep him from drawing the weapon and jerked my knee up into his thigh. He fell to one knee and I struck, my elbow coming down with brutal force on the back of his neck. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Bending, I grabbed the gun from his holster, and quickly turned back to the guy whose knee was now busted, chambering a round as I did so. He'd been scrabbling on the ground for my gun, but froze when he heard the racking of the slide.

I was breathing hard now as I pointed the gun at the man. He slowly put his hands up in the air as he watched me. Still seething, I wiped my bleeding mouth on the back of my hand, never taking my eyes off him. Taking a couple steps closer, I saw fear enter his eyes.

"You tell your boss," I said in a voice as cold as ice, "that if he fucks my woman again, I'll cut his dick off myself."

The man's eyes went wide in surprise before I brought the gun down on his head, then he too was unconscious on the ground.

**SPOV**

I felt like I was going to be sick, my actions now horrifying me. I'd hit Ranger. Then I'd tried to hurt him again the only other way I knew how, and I'd used Michael to do it.

I didn't know what had come over me. Normally, I liked to think I wasn't a vindictive or selfish person, Joyce Barnhardt notwithstanding. My actions in the past several minutes would seem to say otherwise.

After pulling my t-shirt back on, I sat silently next to Michael as he drove, my fists clenched tightly in my lap. I wondered what was going to become of me and why it no longer seemed to matter. I'd accepted that my life now included Michael, his lifestyle and line of work. Ranger was right – my days were numbered, I was sure. Michael himself had told me his own mother had died trying to protect his stepfather. Would my fate be any different in the end? I didn't seem to have the strength of will to get myself out of the situation, almost welcoming the dangerous turn my life had taken.

I thought of Ranger and knew with a certainty that he would be gone soon, if he wasn't already. My stomach clenched and I gripped the seat hard, wanting to double over and clutch at my middle for the pain, held at bay for so many weeks, not returning with a vengeance.

Ranger was leaving. Ranger was leaving **me**.

The shock of being so near to him, having him touch me, kiss me, had been overwhelming. The way he'd kissed me, like I was his salvation, had threatened to bring me to my knees. I abruptly remembered what he said about belonging to him. With a sinking heart, I knew I'd never really get over Ranger. A piece of me would indeed always be his.

When he said he loved me, it should have made a difference. I knew Ranger had always felt something for me, but as he'd said himself, it just wasn't enough. And I couldn't handle that. It may have been enough for him to come all the way down here, but in the end it would kill me, be it ever so slowly and softly. A fragment of a remembered verse came to me, something I'd read once up on a time, about two lovers and their inevitable end. _One of us must love the more,_

_One of us shall love the less._*

I decided I'd rather be the one who loved the less. It didn't hurt as much.

I'd had to cut it off in the most final way I could, show him beyond any doubt that I didn't want him anymore. What I'd said and done should have proven irrevocably that we were over, though it seemed my heart was going to split open inside my chest at the thought. He should never have come here. Ranger's fascination with the unobtainable had nearly destroyed me once – I couldn't trust him again.

"You know what you need?" Michael said over the wind blowing through the convertible. I looked at him questioningly. "Retail therapy," he answered his own question with a smile. I tried to smile back but my heart wasn't in it.

"Come on now," Michael coaxed, "don't be so glum. I know the Feds are a pain in the ass but a little shopping will cheer you up." He grinned at me, his free hand taking mine as it lay on the seat between us. I remembered my lie with chagrin – I didn't like lying.

My bank account wasn't in the greatest shape for a shopping spree, but I didn't want to ruin his attempts to make me feel better, so I nodded. "All right," I agreed.

Michael drove me to a little dress shop that I thought for sure would be closed at this time of night. But after he parked and pulled me out of the car, he walked up and rapped on the locked door. After a few moments, a woman answered, unlocking and opening the door for us.

"Michael!" she said with a smile, "so good to see you! Come for some shopping?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, his drawl pronounced. "Stephanie here would love to have a look around. If you're open?"

"For you, we're always open," she answered, opening the door wider so we could step inside.

Her name was Deirdre and she put me in a dressing room, bringing me piles of clothes and dresses to try on. I tried to protest, but she and Michael persisted. When I tried something on, Michael insisted I show him how it looked. He was silly and fun and did make me smile a little as he reacted to the various outfits, easing my heartbreak, as he'd always been able to do.

Deirdre gave me a dress to try on that was made of a deep, midnight blue chiffon. It had straps and a sweetheart neckline. The waist was fitted and the skirt flared out in layers of the transparent chiffon, making it opaque. A slit in the front came nearly to the top of my thigh and there were diamond-shaped cutouts in the dress on the side of the bodice. It was gorgeous and it took my breath away. Searching for the price tag, I finally found it buried discreetly inside. I gasped. The dress was over two thousand dollars. Very carefully, I hung it back up on the hanger.

Michael poked his head around the curtain. "Aren't you going to try that on?" he asked.

"No way," I said, shaking my head regretfully. "Way out of my league."

"But I was hoping you'd wear it tomorrow night," he said.

"What's tomorrow night?"

"There's a charity thing I have to go to. I was hoping you'd be my plus one." His eyes twinkled at me. "It's a fancy ball and you'll need a gown."

I chewed my lip indecisively. "Let's go somewhere else then," I said, then lowered my voice. "Someplace not quite so pricey, okay?"

He rolled his eyes. "Put the dress on, Stephanie," he said, "let me worry about how much it costs." He stepped away.

"Michael!" I hissed, and he obediently stuck his head back in. "It's over two grand for this dress," I whispered, sure he was going to have a cow over the price like I had.

"So get one in every color," he whispered back before disappearing again.

I stood there for a moment in surprise. Well, I guess if he wanted to spend his money on a dress, who was I to say no?

A few minutes later, I was in the dress and looking at myself in the mirror. It looked even more amazing on. The blue bringing out my eyes and contrasting nicely with my tan. Unbidden, the thought came to me of how Ranger would react to seeing me in this dress – his eyes would darken and he'd say, "Babe" in that way that sent tingles down my spine and made me want to tear his clothes off.

My eyes stung and I blinked back the tears. Now was not the time to be thinking about Ranger. I was quite sure he wasn't thinking about me, and if he was, it certainly wasn't anything nice. The words "slut" and "whore" came to mind, and I didn't think I didn't deserve them.

I stepped out of the changing room, looking around for Michael. He'd moved a little ways away and was talking earnestly on his cell phone. He hadn't seen me yet so I went towards him, sure he'd want to see the dress on me. Just then he turned a little and I could see his face. My step faltered. The cold mask of fury that I'd seen when we'd nearly been mugged was back, and I felt a chill go through me.

Glancing up, he saw me and smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. He abruptly ended the conversation and flipped the phone closed, sliding it into a pocket.

"You look beautiful," he said, taking my hand. He made me do a slow pirouette, letting out a low whistle of appreciation. "Perfect."

"Is everything all right?" I asked, gesturing toward his phone in his pocket.

"One of my men got in a fight, that's all," he said dismissively. "Got his knee dislocated." His eyes met mine and he studied me intently for a moment. "Is there anything else about tonight that you want to tell me?" he asked seriously.

I went very still, like a deer caught in headlights. He didn't know, couldn't know, about Ranger. Swallowing, I fixed my lips in a smile. "Of course not," I lied smoothly. I didn't want to know Michael's reaction if he found out Ranger had been here, had kissed me and shot at us when we were making out. Men usually weren't very understanding about that sort of thing.

After a tense moment, he seemed to believe me, nodding and leading me back to the dressing room where I changed back into my clothes.

Deirdre helped me pick out matching shoes and a purse, then packaged up the dress as well as a lot of the clothes I had tried on. I told Michael not to buy it all, but he wouldn't listen to me.

"I don't need you to buy me these things," I said in an undertone to him while Deirdre folded clothes into sacks.

"Maybe I need to buy them for you," he replied, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my lips. "Wait for me outside, okay?"

I reluctantly obeyed, heading outside to the street, now full of evening revelers. My life seemed directionless, as if I were adrift at sea and at the mercy of the currents, my life spiraling out of my control. I couldn't dictate even my own actions anymore, much less predict anyone else's.

Now that Michael's shopping distraction was over, guilt returned to eat at me. Thinking of the display I'd put on earlier with Michael in front of Ranger made me want to cringe in shame. I'd acted the worst sort of way, playing the whore for Michael so Ranger could see he didn't own me anymore, even if it wasn't true.

I couldn't stand the regret that threatened to consume me, and I walked into a nearby bar, desperate for a way to stop feeling anything at all, trying not to think of how far away Ranger must be by now. I knew I'd never see him again.

"Tequila," I ordered from the bartender who sat a shot glass and lime wedge in front of me, filling the shot glass with a light gold liquid.

Licking the back of my hand, I sprinkled some salt on, licking it off before slamming the shot back. I bit into the lime and sucked hard, my eyes watering at the fiery tequila.

"Another?" he asked and I nodded. I disposed of the second one as quickly as the first.

"Drowning your sorrows?"

I looked up as Michael slid onto the stool next to me. Smiling tightly, I said, "Just having a good time. Isn't that what you wanted?" His eyes were uncertain as he watched me.

"Have a drink with me?" I asked. I could already feel the heat of the tequila hitting my empty stomach. Getting drunk seemed the perfect end to a really shitty day.

"All right," Michael drawled, signaling to the bartender.

A half hour later, I had finally attained my goal. I felt nothing. I'd had three more shots with Michael and now we were slow dancing to a fast song on the dance floor. He was actually doing the dancing, I was just holding on to him so I wouldn't fall.

"I think you're ready to go home," he said in my ear. I shook my head, then regretted that as the room started to spin.

"Don't want to," I protested. The lack of emotion was a relief I didn't want to give up. "Let's have another shot." I let go of him to turn towards the bar, but immediately tripped over my own feet. Luckily, he moved fast, catching me before I could do a face plant on the floor.

"I don't think so," he said. "I didn't realize you couldn't hold your liquor, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle, wrapping his arm around me and leading me outside.

"I held it just fine," I retorted, "didn't spill a drop." He laughed again though I didn't see what was so funny.

We walked down the street towards his car. Well, he walked, tightly holding my hand as I skipped over cracks in the sidewalk.

"Don't step on the crack!" I cried when I saw him step on one. "It's bad luck!"

"My bad," he said, catching me around the waist as I tripped over what should have been a nice, flat sidewalk, but wasn't. Looking over his shoulder, something caught my eye.

"Oooh," I breathed. "I want to go in there." Turning, he saw what I was looking at, and shook his head.

"No way," he said. "Not when you're in this condition."

"Please," I begged. "I've always wanted to!"

"Steph, I don't know," he hesitated, and I sensed I could make him cave.

"Please? Please? Please?" I kissed him with each "please," the kisses getting progressively longer and deeper.

"Okay," he said as we finally broke apart. "But we're going home after, okay?"

"Okay," I promised. "Pinky swear."

Two hours later, we were back at his house and he was carrying me inside. I told him I could walk but he didn't believe me. I entertained him by singing the Gilligan's Island theme song, then quizzed him on who he thought was sexier – Ginger or Maryanne. He said I was prettier than both of them, but I told him he was full of it.

He laid me down in the bed, kissing my forehead, and that's the last thing I remembered.

My head was splitting when I woke up and I groaned, rolling over and burying my head under the covers. I felt like death warmed over and I vowed never to touch alcohol again, as I always did. But this time I was sure I meant it.

Light was streaming in the windows and I gingerly cracked my eyes to see the clock. It was after noon. I was alone in the bed and I guessed that Michael was probably downstairs or working or doing whatever it was a drug lord did during the day.

My bladder was insisting I get up and take care of personal business. Against my better judgment, I slowly got out of bed and stumbled my way into the bathroom. Glancing in the mirror, I groaned again. My hair was sticking out in all directions and I had raccoon eyes from the makeup I hadn't taken off. My head was still pounding and I thought I'd give my right arm for a Coke and McDonald's fries right now.

I relieved my bladder and stepped into the shower, figuring I would probably feel better when I was clean. As I showered, I tried to recall last night, but everything seemed fuzzy after Ranger.

Ranger.

I abruptly remembered that he had been here yesterday. He'd kissed me and told me he loved me.

Then I remembered what I had done.

I barely made it out of the shower and to the toilet before throwing up.

When it was finally nothing but dry heaves, I moved to the sink, washing out my mouth and brushing my teeth. Glancing up at the mirror, I saw my naked reflection and froze.

Watching the mirror, I gently touched the etching on my skin that I just now barely remembered insisting I have last night. Above my left thigh, right below my hip and low on my abdomen, was my new tattoo.

It was about two inches long and about one inch high and done entirely in black. A symbol people everywhere, from the age of nine to ninety, knew.

Indelibly inked on my skin was something that seemed more akin to a brand than a tattoo in my eyes.

A perfectly formed shadow of a bat.

To be continued…

*The poem Stephanie is thinking of here is the following:

**Recurrence** by Dorothy Parker

We shall have our little day.

Take my hand and travel still

Round and round the little way,

Up and down the little hill.

It is good to love again;

Scan the renovated skies,

Dip and drive the idling pen,

Sweetly tint the paling lies.

Trace the dripping, pierced heart,

Speak the fair, insistent verse,

Vow to God, and slip apart,

Little better, Little worse.

Would we need not know before

How shall end this prettiness;

One of us must love the more,

One of us shall love the less.

Thus it is, and so it goes;

We shall have our day, my dear.

Where, unwilling, dies the rose

Buds the new, another year.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

**RPOV**

I ran until I was dripping with sweat, my knees like jelly. The early morning sun was just peeking over the horizon when I made it back to my hotel.

Standing under the shower, I leaned an arm against the wall, letting the scalding water cascade over my shoulders.

I couldn't get the images out of my mind, they flashed through like scenes from a movie, replaying until I wanted to slam my fist into the wall.

Stephanie, her eyes cold, her words angry and bitter. The flash of pain I saw in them before she hid it. Then her with Michael. His mouth on her skin, her hands clutching him to her, her legs spread for him.

For once in my life, I didn't know what my next step should be. I couldn't leave her with Michael, that was obvious, though I was at a loss as to how to make her come with me. She didn't trust me anymore.

That fact hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I'd always prided myself on being worthy of her trust. I'd always protected her, taken care of her, made sure she had what she needed. The only thing I hadn't protected her from was me. I'd hurt her and nothing was going to change that.

Somehow I had to earn back her trust. Prove to her that I'd been wrong, blinded. I'd changed. I needed her, wanted her in my life. And I had to do that quick, before she got herself even deeper into the mess she was in with Michael.

Turning off the water, I toweled dry before tugging on a pair of jeans. I opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom, strapping on my watch that was lying on the bedside table. In one fluid movement, I grabbed the gun that had been lying there as well, spinning around and pointing it at the man sitting silently in a chair in the corner.

Michael.

He sat calmly in the chair, watching me, one ankle resting on his knee. Clad in lightweight linen pants and shirt, he appeared every inch the idle island gentleman.

I could tell immediately by the weight of my gun that the bullets had been emptied out of it. Dropping my arm to my side, I returned his stare with one of my own.

"Carlos Manoso," he said finally. "Or should I say...Ranger." His voice was derisive but I didn't respond, waiting to see how this played out.

"Former Special Forces, now owns and runs a security firm with offices in Trenton, Atlanta, Miami and Boston. Moonlights as a mercenary and is available for hire, if the money is right."

"What brings you to town, Ranger?" he asked in a deceptively light tone.

I said nothing.

"Well," he laughed lightly, "I guess we both know why you're here. The lovely Stephanie Plum, of course."

I hated even hearing him say her name.

"How did you get in?" I asked, my voice tight.

"Ranger, you must know that I have friends all over this island," he replied casually. "If I want something, I get it. And I wanted to have a...friendly chat with you."

I wanted to get him to talk. The more I knew about him, the easier it would be to defeat him.

"I'm listening," I said flatly.

"You must know that Stephanie doesn't want you here," he said. "She's told me about you, you know. Said you didn't want her, didn't love her."

My stomach clenched in a knot. I despised the idea of Stephanie talking to this piece of shit about us, especially when she was so wrong.

"So that begs the question," he said softly. "Why are you here?"

I stared at him for a moment before answering. "Stephanie's mine and I want her back."

"Not anymore, she's not," he retorted angrily, jumping to his feet and walking towards me, stopping only when he was inches away.

"Maybe you didn't see clearly yesterday so I'll spell it out for you," he said, getting up in my face. "She wanted me to fuck her in the middle of the damn street just so you could watch." He smiled coldly. "That doesn't sound like a woman who's still in love with you, Ranger."

In a flash, I had my knife in my hand, pulling it from the back pocket of my jeans. I pressed it to his throat, forcing his head back.

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you right here, right now," I hissed at him.

Michael's smile faded but he didn't flinch away. He moved his hand slowly upward and I saw he held a cell phone. I watched suspiciously as he hit a button and a few seconds later, a man's voice answered on speaker.

"André," Michael said, "are you with Stephanie?"

"Yes, sir," came the response. Michael's eyes were locked on mine.

"Kill her."

"Yes, sir."

Panic ripped through me.

"No! Wait!" Desperately, I jerked my knife away from Michael, stepping back and raising my hands in the air as a gesture of surrender.

"Belay that, André," Michael said.

"Yes, sir."

"If I don't come home, André," he continued, "carry out that order."

"Yes, sir," came the emotionless response.

I didn't move. My heart was racing as I watched Michael slide the phone into his pocket. I slowly lowered my arms, my fists clenched.

"So," he said softly, "are we clear on how this is going to be? You come after me, she dies. Her life is literally in my hands. Understood?"

I slowly nodded once. My blood felt like ice in my veins as I watched him so casually discuss killing Stephanie.

"Good. Now, I want you to stay away from Stephanie. She was quite upset last night and I didn't like that. She had a little too much to drink. You know she really doesn't hold her liquor well."

He said the last like we were buddies reminiscing over a shared girlfriend. With a sudden realization, I thought maybe Michael wasn't completely together mentally. That's all I needed. Instead of just being a calculating killer, he might be a deranged lunatic. You couldn't reason with a lunatic, or predict their behavior.

"What happened to your other girlfriends, Michael?" I asked, watching him intently.

"Accidents can happen to anyone," he replied coldly. "I suggest you keep that in mind."

I didn't move and didn't reply, merely watched him, the silence and tension becoming thick in the room. His eyes narrowed a little as he stared.

"Why do you look so familiar to me?" he murmured, almost to himself. The he seemed to shake it off and without another word, he turned on his heel and left, the hotel door slamming shut behind him.

**SPOV**

After getting dressed, I went downstairs, wondering where Michael was. I decided to ignore my new body art and pretend it didn't exist. I couldn't really wrap my mind around what I'd done while I was drunk. Not being a huge fan of pain anyway, I couldn't believe I'd insisted on not only get tattooed, but inking a symbol on my skin that really had only one meaning for me.

Michael was in the kitchen when I entered, talking with another man there. I didn't want to interrupt but he must have heard my steps, turning and catching sight of me. His mouth split into a wide smile as he took in my appearance. I'd put on some of the new clothes he'd bought for me, a navy wraparound skirt with small white polka dots and a white camisole top.

"Well, good afternoon, sunshine," he said warmly, taking my hand and pulling me into a loose hug. He released me but kept an arm around me. "Let me introduce you," he said, turning back to the man.

"Stephanie, this is André," he said, and I held out my hand. André took it briefly as he nodded a greeting to me. André was about Michael's height and seemed to be of Latin descent, his skin a dark olive and hair a deep black.

"André is my right-hand man," Michael explained, "as well as my head guard. He's in charge of the grounds and security."

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"Likewise," André answered politely. His eyes were flat and devoid of emotion, though his mouth smiled. He kind of gave me the creeps, though I figured he would be the sort of man you'd want in charge of your safety if you did what Michael did for a living.

"Have you eaten yet?" Michael asked, and I shook my head.

"Excuse me, sir," André said. Michael glanced at him briefly for a nod, then turned back to me as André left the room.

"Let's get some lunch, shall we? I'm starving."

Hours later, I had finished getting ready for the charity event Michael said we were going to. The blue dress was gorgeous and I smoothed the skirt down over my bare legs. I'd pulled my hair back on the sides, leaving it down in back with tendrils of curls trailing the sides of my face and neck.

Looking at myself in the mirror was like seeing a stranger. I was going through the motions, but inside I felt numb. I stood there for a moment, staring into my empty eyes and wondering how I'd come to this point in my life.

The chiming of the grandfather clock downstairs startled me from my musings. Pushing my feet into the matching heels, I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs.

Michael was waiting for me in the foyer and he turned to watch as I descended the stairs.

"You look beautiful," he complimented me, taking my hand for the last few steps.

"You're not so bad yourself," I replied, forcing a small smile. He had told me it was a black tie affair and was wearing a tux. The rich fabric encased his shoulders perfectly and distantly I noticed how handsome he was.

He drove us to a ritzy hotel, handing a uniformed valet the keys as another valet opened my door for me. Lamps glittered from the windows, scattering the evening darkness with their golden light. Other couples dressed just as elaborately as us were climbing the short set of stairs into the hotel.

A host, also clad in a tux, greeted us and led us inside to a ballroom. There had to be at least a couple hundred people there, if not more, and I felt a little overwhelmed. Several men stopped to speak to Michael as we made a slow circuit around the room. I noticed they were very polite, almost deferential, as they conversed.

Michael acted more distant and reserved with them than he usually was with me, conveying the impression of a powerful man deigning to grant them a moment of his time. Michael introduced me to everyone and I smiled until I felt like my face was going to crack from the effort of playing the dutiful girlfriend to the dangerous drug lord. A part of me couldn't help but heap recriminations on myself and my impetuous actions last night. Even if I didn't believe Ranger wanted me, he could have gotten me away from here. I knew that much.

Finally, there was a moment when someone wasn't vying for his attention and Michael snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, handing me one. I gratefully sipped the cool liquid. The ballroom had grown warm and was a bit stuffy.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked solicitously, his arm curving around the small of my back.

"It's all right," I said, looking up at him with a small smile, not wanting to betray how miserable I really was. Maybe, given enough time, I'd be able to finally get Ranger out of my head and the aching chasm of disappointment and loss inside my chest would ease.

"I have some business to take care of, then we can have a dance and enjoy the auction, okay?" he asked. I nodded.

"Sounds good."

"You'll be all right on your own for a short while?"

"Yes," I replied, "I think I'll slip outside and get some fresh air."

"Okay. Don't stray too far," he said, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before disappearing into the crowd.

I made my way to the front of the ballroom, slipping out into the corridor which I followed until I found the back of the hotel. It opened onto a wide terrace with a short stairway descending into a garden that led to the beach about two hundred yards away.

There were a few other couples on the terrace and I avoided them, walking to the far side which was empty and cloaked in shadows. I desperately wanted a few minutes alone, to let down my mask and lick my wounds.

Leaning against the stone balustrade, I sighed heavily. It felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders, crushing me. I'd lost the only man I'd ever really loved, irrevocably pushing him away when he'd tracked me down, found me, and finally told me he loved me.

Tears leaked from my eyes and I roughly tried to wipe them away, heedless of the damage I knew it was doing to my makeup. My chest felt like it was going to crack open and I realized I'd just been kidding myself these past three months – I hadn't moved on, hadn't really healed at all from the heartbreak that had driven me from Trenton.

I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with my silent sobs and I dimly wondered how I was going to hide this from Michael. Maybe I could catch a cab back to the house and tell him I'd felt sick or something.

Arms surrounded me and my head jerked up in surprise and fear. Michael couldn't see me like this and I was suddenly afraid he'd found me. My breath caught in my throat as I saw who held me.

Ranger.

The tears began flowing even faster now and I was helpless to stop them. Ranger held me tightly to his chest, an arm wrapped around my waist while his other hand cradled my head tucked underneath his chin.

He was dressed in a tuxedo without the tie, the top two buttons of the crisp white shirt left undone, and I clutched at the lapels of his coat like he was a lifeline. Ranger said nothing, just held me as I cried.

Finally, I regained control, my breath coming in hitches after the crying jag. Ranger still held me, his fingers gently combing through my hair. It felt like a dream. I couldn't believe he was still here on the island, not after what I had done and said last night.

"What...what are you still doing here?" I whispered. "Why haven't you left?"

"I told you why," he said softly.

"But, you were there, you saw," I protested. "How could you stay after watching me do that?" I couldn't fathom why he would still want to be here, still want to speak to me, hold me, after what I'd done last night.

"I don't care about that," he said, cupping my cheek in his hand and tipping my eyes up to meet his. "I love you. And nothing's going to change that."

My head reeled at his words, unable to wrap my mind around them. His eyes searched mine.

"When I thought you were dead, I realized how fucking wrong I was," he continued, his voice low and intense. I couldn't look away, could barely breathe, as he spoke. "I was a bastard to you, not knowing until it was too late how much you mean to me."

I wanted desperately to believe him, but doubt still nagged at me. "Tell me the truth, Ranger," I said quietly. "Was it the fact that I was dead that bothered you so much? Or that you thought you'd failed to protect me?" I knew Ranger and I knew how, for him, failure was never an option.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones, and I wanted to weep at what I saw in his eyes.

"Both," he said roughly. "You are everything to me. I didn't know it then, but I know it now. I protected you because you made my life worth living. It's been you for a long time now, I was just too much of a selfish bastard to see it. Please, Steph, please believe me."

Slowly leaning forward, his lips rested gently on mine, kissing me as tenderly as if I were made of spun glass. After a moment, he moved back, gazing deeply into my eyes, as if he could make me believe him if he just willed it hard enough.

"I swear to you," he vowed. "I will never hurt you again." He watched me intently. "Do you believe me, Steph? Will you trust me?"

I thought about it, searching his eyes for the truth. Could I trust him again? Love him as much as I did? It had nearly destroyed me the last time I had. I didn't know if I could survive his rejection a second time.

But looking at him now as he waited for my answer, I realized in the end, it hadn't mattered where I'd gone or what I'd done to try and distance myself from him. All my efforts to try and kill the connection between us and all I felt for Ranger were futile. Nothing had worked or would ever work. I loved him and I belonged to him. It was pointless to keep fighting it. And I didn't want to, not anymore.

"I'm yours, Ranger," I confessed. "I've always been yours."

A glimmer of triumph lit his eyes before he pulled me back into his arms, kissing me urgently. I kissed him back with all the pent up longing and desperation for him I'd held at bay these many weeks.

When we finally pulled apart, I smiled a little tremulously up at him, then I remembered and my smile faded.

"What's wrong?" he asked as I quickly blinked back more tears. I found it difficult to look him in the eye as I answered, my shame was so strong.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered past the lump in my throat. "About last night. I didn't believe you and I-"

"It doesn't matter," he cut me off. "I deserved it." I shook my head, still caught between his palms, but he stilled me, making me look at him again.

"Say you'll come with me, Babe," he urgently entreated, tucking a curl behind my ear. "Let's leave. Right now."

My heart leapt at his words. "Okay," I agreed, "let me just go say goodbye to Michael first." I pulled away, but his hand closed like a vice on my arm. I looked up questioningly at him.

"You can't," he said flatly.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused. "I'm not just going to disappear without telling him I'm leaving."

"He'll kill you," Ranger said. I gaped a little at him.

"Don't be ridiculous," I huffed. "There's a ballroom full of people in there. He's not going to do anything to me." Ranger appeared unmoved, his hand still locked around my arm.

"Please, Ranger," I cajoled, "I promise you, I'll be right back. Just five minutes. That's all I'm asking." I could see him hesitate. "Trust me," I said. "Five minutes."

"Five minutes," he grudgingly conceded, releasing my arm. I smiled at, impulsively pressing my lips to his for a quick kiss before darting away. I was about fifty feet from him when I turned to look back. He was staring after me, unmoving in the darkness. I beamed at him, happiness and joy threatening to burst inside me.

Then the world exploded.

**RPOV**

I watched Stephanie walk away, giving her a head start before I followed her. She might trust Michael not to hurt her, but I knew better.

She turned, flashing me a blinding smile. I felt a tightness in my chest. I had thought that perhaps I might never see that smile again.

An explosion suddenly rocked the terrace, knocking me backward to the hard concrete. Instinctively, I ducked, covering my head as a second explosion caused wood and glass to become deadly projectiles. Then I was up on me feet, running toward where I'd last seen Stephanie, my heart in my throat.

Debris littered the ground and I tore through the piles, searching frantically. I couldn't find her. Panic started to build and I had to forcibly tamp it down. I couldn't help her if I let emotion cripple me.

"Stephanie!" I called out, hoping she was alive and able to hear me. I uncovered several other bodies, my gut clenching each time until I saw they weren't Stephanie.

I kept calling for her as I searched, desperation clawing at me.

I froze when I heard a small, quiet moan. It was coming from the garden at the foot of the stairs. Jumping up, I leapt over the crushed remains of the balustrade, flying down the stairs. A small form was crumpled at the bottom, nearly invisible in the darkness. Stephanie.

She was lying curled on her side and I carefully smoothed her hair back from her face, not wanting to move her until I knew the extent of her injuries.

"Babe?" I said quietly, praying she was all right. She moaned again, moving slightly as her eyes blinked open.

"Ranger?" she croaked.

"Yeah, Babe," I answered, overwhelming relief rushing through me. "I'm here."

"What happened?" she asked, sitting up. Her hand moved to her head and I saw blood.

"A bomb," I said shortly, moving her hand away so I could examine the wound at her temple. It appeared superficial, thank God. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"It must have knocked you off the terrace." And out of the path of destruction, I guessed. My fists clenched as I realized how close I'd come to losing her. Again. Then I shifted into survival mode.

"Can you stand?" I asked, getting to my feet and grasping her hands. I helped her up, and while she was a little wobbly, I thought it was more from shock than anything else.

"Let's go," I said, and she obediently followed me through the garden toward the beach.

"Wait," she said, abruptly stopping. "Why are we going this way?"

"I don't know who's back there or why a bomb went off," I quickly explained. "Safest course of action is to get to the beach and follow it until we're a safe distance away."

She seemed to accept this, holding my hand tightly as we resumed our rapid pace. Kicking off her shoes, she was able to move faster once we reached the sand.

After a ways, I paused, turning to look back at the hotel, now much smaller in the distance. Distantly, I could hear sirens.

I pulled Stephanie into my arms and she came willingly, hugging me tightly. For a moment, we just stood like that, savoring the fact that we were both alive and together. I could smell the sweet scent of her perfume, the breeze causing tendrils of her hair to tickle the skin of my neck. My eyes squeezed shut in overwhelming gratitude that fate had somehow delivered Stephanie back to me.

Pulling back slightly, she looked up at me. Her eyes were luminous in the moonlight, so full of emotion that I couldn't resist bending down and kissing her. Her mouth opened beneath mine and the kiss quickly turned from reassuring to hungry.

My tongue stroked deep inside the warms depths of her mouth and she whimpered, the sound sending my heart pounding double-time. Her hands came up and pushed my torn jacket off my arms, her fingers frantically yanking at the buttons on my shirt until they tore and that, too, landed in the sand. With a sigh of pleasure, her hands pressed to my skin and I felt the heat from her touch like a brand.

Reaching behind her, I found the zipper of her dress and lowered it, sliding the straps off her shoulders until the fabric fell, puddling at her feet. Breaking off our kiss, I bent, placing an arm behind her knees as I lifted her. She felt slight in my arms, too slight, and I was again reminded of how much she'd endured at my hands.

Carefully, I dropped down to my knees, laying her on top of my jacket spread on the sand. Leaning back, I drank her in like a man dying of thirst. The waves crashed on the sand a few yards away, but the beauty of the ocean paled in comparison to the woman lying before me.

Now clad in only a scrap of lace between her legs, the moonlight danced across her skin. She hadn't been wearing a bra with the dress and her breasts were bare to my hungry gaze. Her ribs were more prominent than I would have liked, her waist dipping inward sharply before her hips flared out in a gentle curve.

A mark I hadn't seen before marred her perfect skin and I frowned as I leaned forward for a better look. It was hard to see clearly, slightly covered as it was by her panties, so I hooked my fingers in the delicate fabric, sliding it down and off her legs. I looked closer.

She had tattooed a bat onto her skin.

I traced the image with my finger and felt her shiver slightly at my touch. I was humbled to the point of speechlessness at what she had done and I wondered if I would ever be able to fully understand this woman. She'd marked herself as mine even while believing I hadn't wanted her. She didn't realize I was branded as well, her name permanently imprinted on my soul.

Leaning down, I pressed my lips to the tattoo, delicately outlining it with my tongue. She squirmed a little, her breath coming in small pants as her hands settled on my shoulders. I smiled with satisfaction against her skin. As responsive as ever to my touch, this woman's body had been made for me.

I parted her thighs, eager to touch her, taste her again. She was already aroused, her pussy glistening with moisture in the moonlight. I eagerly parted her folds, exposing her utterly to me. Then my mouth was on her, my tongue inside her, and it was as close to heaven as I could get.

I worshiped her with my mouth, her body seeming to crackle with electricity against my tongue. I groaned deep in my throat, her taste and scent turning my cock rock hard.

A stream of gasps and moans were coming from her mouth, her hips lifting to meet my thrusting tongue. I spread her thighs wider, my tongue working relentlessly against the taught bundle of nerves at the apex of her cunt. I was painfully hard, my hips digging into the sand for some relief.

She bucked against me, a cry coming from her lips. I moved my hands underneath her, holding her still as she came, feeling the small contractions of her body against my tongue. She pulled at me, even the gentlest touch too much, but I didn't stop, knowing I could push her further.

"Stop, oh God, Ranger!" she panted, trying to move away but I held her, taking her clit between my teeth and sucking hard.

She screamed, her body convulsing again as she came hard against my tongue. This time I released her, placing gentle kisses on her thighs and stomach as she struggled to regain control of her breathing. I placed my head against her chest and could hear her heart pounding a rapid rhythm.

"Please, Ranger," she beseeched, tugging at my belt. Sitting up, I quickly shed my pants and shoes, coming back to kneel between her legs.

Reaching up, she pulled me down to her, her lips meeting mine in a searing kiss. Taking her hips in my hands, I thrust into her, growling in satisfaction as her wet heat surrounded me. I couldn't seem to control my body any longer, the reality of Stephanie here in my arms, my cock buried deep inside her, drove all thought from my mind. All I could do was feel.

I thrust into her repeatedly, so hard briefly worried that I was hurting her. But she didn't seem to be hurting, her legs wrapping around me as she clutched my shoulders. She was talking softly, keening words whispered in the dark.

"Oh God, yes, harder. Please, Ranger. Love you. Please, harder. More."

Then she was crying out again, her pussy gripping my cock as she came and I couldn't hold back any longer, shuddering my release in her arms as a shout erupted from me.

I collapsed inelegantly on top of her, spent. My breathing was ragged and my skin was slick with sweat. Her fingers gently combed through my hair. Raising myself up on my elbows, I looked down at her. I remembered the last time I'd made love to her, how it had nearly been the very last time, and I'd left her without saying a word.

Gazing deeply into her eyes, our bodies still joined, I said with absolute conviction, "I love you, Stephanie."

Her eyes glistened as they filled with tears and my thumbs brushed away the wetness that escaped.

"I love you, too," she whispered.

I placed gentle kissed on her eyes, her cheeks, her brows, her lips. Tears continued to leak from her eyes.

"Don't cry, Babe," I begged. I couldn't handle her crying. I vowed to do everything in my power so she'd never have anything to cry about ever again.

Rising up, I helped her to her feet. I shook the sand out of her dress and helped her back into it before pulling my pants and shirt back on, tucking my gun into the small of my back. The ocean breeze was a little chilly so I shook out my jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"You look cute in that," I said, using the lapels of the jacket to pull her closer to me.

"So did you," she replied, grinning up at me.

"I looked cute?" I said doubtfully.

"Okay, maybe not cute," she backtracked, her grin widening as she teased me. "Drop dead gorgeous, maybe. How's that?"

"I like the drop dead part."

I whipped around at the voice, pushing Stephanie behind me. Michael stood not ten feet away, a gun in his hand. The sound of the waves must have disguised his approach.

"I see you were real worried about me, Steph," Michael said bitterly. "Fucking him on the beach like a whore while I could have been dying back there."

"Michael, I'm so sorry," Stephanie said, stepping from behind me. My jaw tightened and I gripped her arm tightly, keeping her pressed close against my side.

Michael looked a little worse for wear, his jacket gone and his shirt torn. Blood stained his side and a bleeding cut ran from his temple to his cheek bone.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he said tightly, "afraid you'd been killed. And here you are. With him." He waved the gun at me for emphasis and I felt her cringe. "You're coming with me, Stephanie," he ordered. "Get over here."

"Like hell she is," I growled, but Stephanie laid a hand on my arm.

"Let me handle this," she said quietly before turning toward Michael.

"Michael, I'm sorry," she said, "but I just don't love you. I love Ranger. I want to go with him."

Michael's face turned stony with rage as I watched, his eyes cold and hard.

"I don't think you understood," he intoned, his voice deadly calm. "I didn't ask what you want." He cocked the gun, the sound making Stephanie jerk in fear. "You come with me, or he dies."

"Michael, please, I-" she implored.

"Get over here now!" he shouted furiously.

I didn't dare draw my gun with Stephanie so close to me. I had no idea how good of a shot Michael was but if I startled him and he accidently shot Stephanie, I would never forgive myself.

"If I come with you, will you let him go?" she asked, stubbornly remaining by my side.

Michael smiled coldly. "Of course," he answered. I knew he was lying, but it seemed Stephanie believed him. She squeezed my hand tightly, then let go.

I watched in dismay as she walked carefully across the sand toward him, my hands twitching with the need to grab my gun. But Michael's gaze remained fixed on me and I dared not move.

Stephanie stopped a couple feet from him, unsure what to do. He shot her a quick disgusted glance before backhanding her, the force of the blow knocking her to the ground and she cried out in pain.

Rage erupted in me and I sprang forward, my hand ripping the gun from my back. A blaze of fire erupted from the muzzle of Michael's gun and I belatedly heard the retort, a thunderclap in my ears, before searing pain exploded in my chest.

I stopped in my tracks, looking down in surprise to see the large red stain quickly spreading over my shirt. My legs buckled and I dropped to my knees in the sand.

Distantly, I heard screaming. Stephanie was screaming. She was trying to reach me but Michael had a hold of her. She fought like mad, trying to break free of Michael's grip to come to me, screaming curses at him, tears streaming down her stricken face.

I tried to raise my gun, but my arm wouldn't obey and I felt it slip from my fingers to land uselessly in the sand. I watched in helpless horror as Michael raised his gun, bringing it down with crushing force on Stephanie's head. She dropped to the ground and didn't move.

I'm sorry. Babe, I'm so sorry. Those words repeated themselves over and over in my head as darkness encroached on my mind. I fell forward in the sand, the pain and darkness overtaking me, and knew no more.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

**RPOV**

I was in a fog of pain, unable to see anything. Voices rose and fell around me in random patterns. My mind was slow, unfocused, and I tried desperately to move but my limbs felt encased in lead. There was something I was supposed to do. Something so important. But I couldn't separate myself from the pain long enough to remember.

It felt as if I were underwater. My body seemed lighter, movement possible, but required so much effort. The pain was still there but I could push it away now, compartmentalize it. I struggled to think, my mind lethargic.

Stephanie.

Oh God, where was she? Was she dead? Had Michael killed her? I'd failed her. I'd done the unforgiveable – risked her safety for a moment of satisfaction.

Delirium threatened and I struggled against it. I had to get up. I had to get to her, find her.

Hands held me down. The voices were back. Urgent, ordering me to stay still. I tried to tell them, I had to find Stephanie. She was all that mattered. They had to know.

A prick in my arm, then there was nothing.

Opening my eyes felt like prying open a rusted metal door that had been welded shut. The pain was nearly gone, thank God, and what was left was manageable.

The room was dim, light filtering in through the open door. A hospital. I looked down at my body. An IV was in my left arm and a heart monitor stuck to my chest. A breathing tube was inside my nose and I pulled it out with a grimace, coughing a little. I loathed being in a hospital.

I sat up slowly, taking inventory of my body as I moved. I felt weak, which I hated. A large white patch of gauze was taped to my abdomen. I pulled at it so I could see beneath it.

The wound wasn't as bad as I'd expected. Small and stitched shut, the entrance hole in my body was nearly healed. I didn't feel a corresponding exit wound in my back so the bullet must have lodged inside. Small caliber gun, I guessed. It had been hard to tell in the dark and it had happened so fast.

Oh God. How long had I been here? How long had Stephanie been in the hands of that bastard?

Ripping the heart monitors off, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The movement made my blood pressure drop and I was forced to pause. I locked my jaw in frustration at the weakness. I kept my body in top physical condition for a reason – so it would always be ready to perform as required, the moment it was required. The fact that it wouldn't now irritated the shit out of me.

"What do you think you're doing, Ranger?" Tank had appeared in the doorway, a Styrofoam cup in his hand.

"Getting the fuck out of here," I rasped. God, I was thirsty. "Is that water?" I asked, nodding toward his cup.

"Coffee," he replied, "but I can get water." He disappeared into the hall for a minute, then was back, handing me a small cup. I gratefully gulped down the water.

"You just woke up, man," he said, "you can't be going nowhere. It's a miracle you're even alive."

"What happened?" I asked. "Where am I?"

"Miami," he answered. "The paramedics found you on the beach. Said they heard screaming, but only found you. Good thing they were there already because of the bomb or you probably wouldn't have made it. Stabilized you, then airlifted you here."

I digested this. Stephanie had saved me. Her screams were what had brought help. But Tank hadn't told me the most pertinent information.

"How long?" I asked, dreading the answer before it even left his mouth. Tank seemed to understand because it took him a moment to muster the courage to tell me.

"Three weeks."

The air left my lungs in a rush. Three weeks. She could be anywhere. Or she could be dead.

"Stephanie..." I choked out.

"I know, man," Tank tried to reassure me. "That's all you talked about while you were out. We're looking for her. I've got two-men teams scouting out South America, Florida, the Bahamas, Cuba, you name it."

"Any hits?" I asked, not daring to hope.

He hesitated. "Not yet. But we'll find her, boss."

"Get me out of here," I ordered. He studied me for a long moment before nodding.

"I'll be right back."

Thirty minutes later, I'd been released from the hospital against doctor's orders. Tank had told me they'd had to keep sedating me while I'd been recovering. I got so agitated when I'd start to waken that I'd broken my stitches and twice pulled out the IV. I didn't remember any of this.

"I need to get back to Key West," I said as we drove to the hotel where Tank had been staying.

"They're gone from there, boss," Tank informed me. "That's the first place we looked. Found out he had a house on Sugarloaf Key. But it's empty at the moment. Wherever he took her, I'm bettin' it ain't in the Keys.

"Best thing right now would be to get you back to Jersey," he continued. "You can oversee the recon ops from there." And heal. The words were unspoken, but they hung in the air nonetheless.

I couldn't blame him. No one wanted a partner on an op that was in less than perfect physical condition. Even though getting on a plane and flying away from the last spot I'd seen Stephanie tore at my gut, I knew logically that Tank was right. They were long gone from here.

Six hours later, we'd caught a flight to New Jersey and were pulling into the Rangeman garage. Tank had brought me up to speed on where he'd sent whom. I was struggling to not let my exhaustion show so I was grateful when I was finally able to collapse in my bed.

Nightmares plagued me that night and every night after that. I'd been to some of the worst places on the planet, seen and done unimaginable things, yet nothing had ever tormented me the way my imagination conjured scenarios for what had happened to Stephanie.

Tank had been true to his word. Teams were searching for her and Michael. I bled money trying to buy any information I could on where he'd gone. But trying to get a line on a notorious drug lord wasn't easy. I called in all the favors I could and my men did the same. But it was as if they'd disappeared into thin air.

I was in the gym doing pull-ups, trying to get my abdominal muscles back into shape, when Tank found me. It had been seventy-three days since I'd last seen Stephanie. Each day that passed seemed to mock me and all my efforts, the likelihood of being able to find her dropping as time went on.

**Tank's POV**

I approached Ranger cautiously. He'd been hitting the gym a lot lately. Too much, too soon, if you ask me. I could hardly believe he'd recovered as quickly as he had – he'd been so close to dying.

I watched as he did another pull-up, his biceps and delts like iron bands as hefted his weight to the level of the bar before slowing lowering himself again.

"What is it?" he asked, dropping to the floor and grabbing a nearby towel to wipe off the sweat. I didn't immediately answer, trying to figure out how to say what needed to be said, and he turned to look at me.

"Did you find something?"

"No," I responded quickly, not wanting to get his hopes up. His face betrayed nothing, but I could see the flash of disappointment in his eyes.

"Then what is it?"

"The guys and me," I began, "we were thinking, maybe you need to let her parents know." It came out in a rush since I was hurrying to get this over with. It hadn't been my choice to be the one to approach Ranger, but I'd lost the coin toss.

Ranger went very still, his eyes cold as they met mine.

"Let her parents know what?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice. I swallowed, hating to have to answer.

"That she...that Steph..." I stammered and stopped talking. Ranger just watched me and inwardly I quaked under his icy gaze. "That she's probably dead," I blurted out.

He was on me in an instant, grabbing the front of my shirt in his fist and dragging me toward him. I didn't fight him, that would get us nowhere.

"She. Is. Not. Dead," he spat furiously, his face inches from mine. "I will talk to her parents when I have some goddamn information for them, not fucking guesswork." He shoved me and I stumbled back a few steps.

I looked at him and he must have seen the sympathy on my face because his instantly became expressionless, the rage shuttered now behind his usual mask.

"Just do your fucking job, Tank," he growled. "And tell everyone else the same. I am **not** giving up on her. If they don't like it, they can leave. That goes for you, too."

"I ain't leaving, man," I said quietly. "She was my friend, too." Ranger's wince was nearly imperceptible, and I caught my mistake. "Is my friend," I corrected. He gave a curt nod before turning away, throwing on a t-shirt.

"Ranger," the intercom buzzed, "We need you up on five."

"On my way," he replied.

In less than five minutes, we were standing behind Bobby, watching the flat screen TV on the wall that was hooked to his computer.

"An email just came," Bobby explained, his voice grim as he punched a couple buttons on his computer. "A Skype invitation from calling themselves Michael Ortega." He glanced up at Ranger. "I thought we'd better take a look." He hit another button and the picture on the TV went blue, then flickered to life.

My eyes widened when I saw Michael Ortega appear on the screen. He was sitting in a chair in a nondescript room that was lavishly furnished. No windows were behind him to give any indication of his location. He could have been anywhere.

"There you are," Michael said as if he and Ranger were old buddies. "I was beginning to wonder if you were every going to show up.

"I must say, Manoso," he continued, "I'm surprised to see you're still amongst the living. I thought for sure I'd left you for dead on that beach."

"You thought wrong," Ranger replied flatly.

I watched intently, this being the first time I'd seen Michael speak, having only seen him in photos. He seemed very casual, very relaxed, though his eyes...his eyes bespoke of a coldness, a detached intelligence I'd seen too many times to not know what a man like him was capable of.

"I'm sure you're wondering how Stephanie is doing," Michael continued, ignoring Ranger's comment. "But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. First, I have to tell you something.

"I thought you looked familiar, Manoso," Michael's voice had lost its genial quality. "Imagine how surprised I was to remember why." He leaned forward a little towards the camera.

"Did you think I wouldn't remember how you murdered my mother?" he said furiously.

I glanced at Ranger, but his face was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the screen. Everyone had gathered around now, watching the television.

Michael took a deep breath, his hands clenched in fists, as he visibly regained control of himself. He sat back in the chair, an eerie calm descending over his features.

"So, about Stephanie," he went on, "I'm afraid I haven't been very happy with her." He made a beckoning motion with one hand.

I sucked in my breath when I saw a man shove Stephanie into the frame. She was wearing some sort of sundress, her hair neatly caught back in a ponytail. But her wrists were tied in front of her with a rope which I could see had made angry red abrasions on her skin. I glanced over at Ranger. His face could have been carved in granite, his clenched fists the only betrayal of his emotions.

The man shoving Stephanie was in black and had a machine gun slung over his back. His meaty paw bit into the back of her neck as he pushed her toward Michael. She stumbled forward, nearly falling before Michael grabbed her, making her sit perched on his knee. Now I could get a good look at her and saw bruises marred her arms and throat. Her cheekbone had a livid mark on it and was swollen. Duct tape covered her mouth.

Cold rage filled me at the sight of what he'd done to her. It didn't appear I was the only one to feel this way. The tension in the room grew thick. Now it was utterly silent as we all watched the screen in growing horror and fury.

"Isn't it a shame to have someone you love so dearly be taken from you?" Michael asked, reaching to touch one of the curled tendrils of hair that had escaped from Stephanie's ponytail. She visibly flinched away which seemed to anger him. He roughly grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Stephanie's quite devoted to you, you know," Michael said, talking to the camera though he was looking at Stephanie. He released her chin and lightly trailed his fingers down the side of her face. "Tried to kill me. Twice." He told us this calmly, as if he were talking about the weather. I watched Stephanie as she remained frozen under his touch, the slight tremor of her hands her only movement.

Michael seemed to shake himself, looking away from Steph and back to the camera. "She certainly keeps things interesting around here," he laughed humorlessly. I noticed Stephanie didn't look at the camera, but kept her face averted. "It appears you have quite the fan club, Stephanie," he said, gesturing toward us. "Tell me, were you fucking all of them or just Manoso?"

Reaching out, he ripped the tape off Stephanie's mouth in one quick motion. She gasped in pain. He ignored her.

"I told her you weren't dead, but I don't think she believed me," he continued. "Did you want to say anything to him, Stephanie?" he asked solicitously. She gave a quick shake of her head, still not looking at the camera.

With a vicious yank on her hair, Michael forced her head back, turning her toward the camera. A little cry escaped Steph before she pressed her lips tightly together. Putting his mouth at her ear, Michael sneered, "Don't you want to tell him how he means to you? How you're going to die without him? That he's the only man you'll ever love?"

Stephanie didn't reply for a moment and I saw her throat move as she swallowed. Her gaze cut to the camera and I saw resignation in her eyes before she looked back at Michael.

"He knows, you sonofabitch," she hissed at him. Then we watched as she swung her arms, fists clenched, toward his face. Taken by surprise, Michael nearly didn't react in time, catching her arms at the last moment before she could strike him. She fought him, but he drove his fist into her side and she cried out in pain.

"Michael," Ranger called out, and Michael stilled, his fist drawn back to strike again. Stephanie had bent over, her bound hands clutching her stomach.

"Wouldn't you rather have me, Michael?" Ranger asked softly, now that he had Michael's attention. "After all, I did kill your mother. One shot to the forehead, if I remember right. You can have me. Just let Stephanie go. I'll take her place."

"No-" Stephanie managed to choke out, but Michael shook her roughly and she didn't speak again.

"That's an interesting idea," Michael mused, pulling Stephanie's hair again so she was forced to sit upright. Her eyes were terrified as she stared into the camera, her face lined with pain.

"Just think of it, Michael," Ranger continued, "avenging your mother's death, after all these years."

Michael didn't reply and we all waited, collectively holding our breath. Not a single one of us would have argued against Ranger's plan. Watching Stephanie's ordeal, I knew that there wasn't anyone here that wouldn't offer to do the same.

After a long moment, Michael spoke. "As tempting as that is," he replied, "I'm going to have to decline. You see, I think this is a better, more fitting punishment for you." He turned his face toward Stephanie.

"Let's show him our favorite game," he said. Stephanie's eyes widened.

"No, Michael, please," she stammered, her voice hardly above a whisper.

"But I want to play," he insisted. He made a motion to someone out of our line of sight.

"Please," Stephanie beseeched him, "turn off the camera, Michael. I'll play. I promise I'll be good. Just turn off the camera, okay?" It was the most difficult thing to watch. She'd just been fighting him, now she was begging him, her bound hands coming up to touch his chest. Her shaking fingers started working on the buttons. I wondered what the fuck was going on, what she didn't want us to see.

"But he'll like this," Michael was adamant. I sucked in my breath when I saw someone hand him a pistol. It was the old-fashioned kind with a rotary set of chambers.

Stephanie grew frantic now. "Please, I'll do whatever you want. Let's go upstairs, okay? Come on." She tugged on his arm and tried to stand but he wrenched her back down to his lap.

"Shut the fuck up!" he suddenly shouted, cutting her off mid-sentence. His voice had resumed its normal tenor when he spoke again. "I want to play right here, right now."

Michael opened the gun chamber, spinning it a few times with his thumb before snapping it back into place. He pulled back the hammer.

"Open your mouth," he said to Stephanie. She didn't immediately comply, her eyes fixed on the gun.

"Open your mouth!" he shouted, and she started violently. Obediently, her mouth opened a little, her jaw trembling.

"Michael, no, don't do this," Ranger called out, his voice tight with fury.

"Shut up, Manoso," Michael ordered, "or I'll pull the trigger twice instead of once."

Ranger's mouth clamped shut, his jaw set. His forehead was damp with sweat and his fists were clenched so tightly the knuckles shown white through his skin.

We all watched as Michael slid the steel barrel of the gun into Stephanie's mouth, her lips closing around it. In his face I saw a mixture of pain, fascination, and to my revulsion, arousal. No one spoke, no one breathed, our eyes fixed to the screen. Michael's finger slowly squeezed the trigger.

_Click._

Even I couldn't keep myself from jumping a little at the sound, so on edge was I as I watched Michael play his sick little game with Stephanie. I saw her eyes roll back in her head and she slumped over, unconscious, whether from terror or relief, I didn't know. I wondered how in the hell Stephanie had made it nearly three months with this psychopath.

Michael carelessly tossed Stephanie to the floor, her body as limp as a rag doll, and handed the gun to someone off-camera.

"That is fucking amazing," he said with a laugh. "I should really take her to Vegas. She's the luckiest bitch I've ever seen." His words made me feel sick to my stomach. How many times had he done that to her?

Ranger's low voice broke the sudden silence.

"I am going to hunt you down, Michael," he intoned. "I am going to hunt you down, kill you, and take back Stephanie." The words were a threat and a promise, spoken with absolute resolution. A chill ran down my spine. Michael leaned forward.

"You want her?" he asked, his lips curving in a sneer. "Then come and get her."

The transmission ended.

No one spoke. No one moved. And no one dared look at Ranger.

"Tell me you were able to trace that."

Ranger's words were directed at Bobby who was jabbing keys furiously on his keyboard. A couple clicks of the mouse and the blank screen was replaced with a map. We all watched as it zoomed in on the western hemisphere, then closer still, South America coming into view. Downward the map zoomed until it focused in on an island.

"Corn Island, Nicaragua," Bobby said with satisfaction.

"I want everyone to know," Ranger announced, his voice tightly controlled, "that no one is obligated to come with me. This is personal. Tank will be in charge of RangeMan while I'm gone."

"Fuck that shit," I cut in, disgusted. "I ain't stayin' here when that fucker has Bombshell. I'm coming with you."

"Me, too," Lester piped up.

"And me," Hal added.

One by one, every man in the room added themselves to the growing number of volunteers to Ranger's team. In the end, seventeen men pledged their lives to her rescue.

Ranger gave a nod of acknowledgment, his mouth set in a tight line.

"Everyone get some rest. Meet back here at 0900 to go over mission details. Dismissed."

The place cleared out. When it was just me and Ranger, I took a step closer and waited. He glanced up at me.

"You all right, man?" I asked carefully. His eyes were scarily empty as he stared at me and I didn't think he was going to answer.

"I can't think about it right now, Tank," he replied hoarsely, and I knew this was costing him much more than he was letting on. "Let's just get her the fuck out of there."

"No problem," I quickly agreed, "I'll get the maps."

**SPOV**

I was back in my prison when I woke up, thankfully alone. Most people probably wouldn't think of it as a prison, but when you couldn't get out, that's what it became. It was a small bedroom with bars on the windows and no handle on the inside of the door. At least it had a bathroom, thank God.

I stumbled into the bathroom, still a little dazed from the scene downstairs. My bonds had been removed so I took a few minutes to run my wrists under cool water from the sink, hissing a little as the fluid washed over the raw and bleeding skin.

Looking up in the mirror, I winced at the bruises on my face and throat. I really wished Ranger hadn't seen that. I wished he hadn't seen a lot.

My throat closed up and I had to take a moment to stop the tears that threatened. I'd learned the hard way that Michael had no patience for crying when he thought I was mourning Ranger. I gulped back the sob, panic welling in my chest at the thought that I might not be able to stop. But the tightness in my chest eased and my eyes remained dry. I breathed a little in relief. I never knew when Michael might come through my door.

Michael. How had I not seen this side of him? I could hardly reconcile the kind, gentle man I'd first met in Key West with the jealous, possessive, cruel psychopath that had taken his place. It seemed bizarre and I would never have believed someone if they'd told me what he was capable of.

But I'd experienced firsthand his derangement. The first few weeks had been the worst. I'd been out of my mind with grief and rage, believing Ranger dead by Michael's hand. I'd tried to kill him and had nearly succeeded the second time, but the gun misfired and I'd been punished. I still bore the marks of that punishment.

That's when Michael had come up with his game. Russian Roulette, except I was the only one who had to play. He'd done it five times now, each time just as terrifying as the last. It was what he went to when he was the most upset with me. It seemed he wanted me dead, but didn't have the guts to do it himself, instead leaving my life or death up to fate.

At first, I hadn't cared if I died. Ranger was dead. That's all that mattered. But then I'd heard two of Michael's henchmen talking about Ranger and how he'd survived. I had a new reason for living then. Before, it had just been to avenge Ranger. Now, I wanted to live to see him again. I knew with a certainty that he would find me and come for me. I could only pray I'd live to see that day.

The door opened behind me and I spun around, my heart in my throat. Michael had entered the bedroom.

I stayed where I was, watching him the way you would a rattler. He was like Jekyll and Hyde and I never knew which I'd be getting. I wondered if he was going to apologize again. Like a wife-beating husband, he always came to say he was sorry afterwards. Initially, I had rejected his apologies, which had only served to send him into violent rages. A cracked rib still ached from when he'd thrown me against the wall.

I'd fought as long as I could stand it until the instinct for self-preservation, for survival, had kicked in. Then I tried to placate him the best I could, reasoning with myself that if I could get him to trust me enough to let me out of the room, I could find a way to escape. I had to escape. Even though I knew Ranger would find me, I didn't know if I'd still be alive when he did. My luck had to run out sometime.

Sex had been the worst. At first, he tried to force me, but something about me fighting back caused him not to be able to get it up. I'd been relieved, until he'd taken his frustration out on me. I never knew getting beaten up could hurt so bad. I hadn't been able to move very much for several days after that first time and had endured Michael's endless apologies, refusing to look at him as he lay beside me in the bed touching my hair.

Stupidly, I'd fought him again the next time he'd approached me a couple weeks later, trying to kiss me. That's when he'd sliced me as he'd cut through my clothes. I tried not to remember all the things he'd threatened to do with that knife. To my shame, I'd curled up in a ball in the corner of the room, blood dripping down the back of my thighs, and sobbed in terror while he raged at me.

After that, I hadn't dared deny him. I endured it because I had no other choice. I wanted to live, so I closed my eyes and I thought of Ranger. I thought of his bed, his scent, the feel of his soft hair under my fingers. I remembered the taste of his skin and the feel of his mouth on me. I crept into a quiet place in my mind where I could once more feel the heat of his body and the passion of his kiss.

Seeing Ranger tonight had been relief and agony. I was overwhelmingly relieved he was alive when I thought for sure he'd died on that beach, his blood turning the sand dark as his eyes begged my forgiveness. But I hadn't known how ashamed I'd feel, how guilty and humiliated that I'd allowed Michael to do this to me, until I'd seen Ranger. How disappointed he must be in me. Not strong enough. I'd never been strong enough. If I ever did see Ranger again, I wondered if he would forgive me for taking the path of least resistance.

"I would have thought you'd be happier once you saw him," Michael said quietly. I didn't answer, still trying to gauge his mood.

"I'm sorry about playing the game," he said. I abruptly remembered my fear that Ranger would have to watch my execution and tears sprang to my eyes. In a flash, Michael was in front of me, his hand gripping my jaw painfully.

"Don't cry!" he implored, and I quickly blinked back the tears, fear clawing at me.

"I'm not," I hastily assured him. "I'm not crying. See?"

"All I want is for us to be happy again," he said. "You know that, right?" I nodded jerkily.

"Here," he said, abruptly pulling away and turning toward the door. "I brought something for you." He turned back and was holding a small tray. It had French fries and a chocolate shake, complete with whipped cream and a cherry. "Salty and sweet, right?"

"Yeah," I managed to choke out. He came over and sat the tray on the nightstand, taking my hand and pulling me down to sit beside him on the bed. I sat gingerly, the newly healed skin on my rear still tender.

Picking up the plate of fries, he started to feed them to me, one at a time. Obediently, I forced myself to chew and swallow. The silence felt oppressive and I was on tenterhooks, waiting to see if Michael would maintain his composure. The constant vigilance of watching for his mood to shift always exhausted me, but I dared not relax my guard for an instant. Being able to react quickly had saved me from deadly injury a time or two.

Taking the shake, Michael plucked the cherry off the top, offering it to me. I hesitated, then leaned forward and ate it. His eyes darkened a little as he watched my mouth and a sick feeling curled in my stomach, nearly making the fries I'd eaten come back up.

Dabbing his finger in the whipped cream, he trailed it down the side of my neck, leaving a wet sticky path. He leaned forward, his tongue darting out to lick the cream from my skin. I couldn't help the shudder of revulsion that went through me and he paused. I froze in terror, my breath locked in my lungs. But he didn't do anything except lean back and dip his finger once more into the whipped cream. This time, his finger traced my mouth before licking it off. His mouth settled on mine and I whimpered, pain twisting deep inside me.

Ranger's face as I'd seen him on the screen haunted me. Eyes cold, his face empty of all emotion as he watched. It reminded me of the nightmare I'd had in Key West, of him walking away from me. Would he walk away now, if he knew I'd stopped fighting?

I pushed Michael away. "No, stop," I said, and to my dismay my voice shook. He grabbed my upper arm, hauling me closer.

"Don't tell me that," he gritted out, his eyes flashing dangerously. Inside, I quaked, but I stood my ground.

"Go fuck someone else," I hissed at him.

Wrapping his hand around my throat, he slammed my head against the wall. I cried out at the pain, nausea erupting in my stomach. I retched and Michael withdrew his hand, moving it to the back of my head and pushing down. I helplessly vomited all over myself.

"For fuck's sake, look at you," he said in disgust. "Like I could fuck you now, looking and smelling like that." He grabbed me by my hair, yanking me toward the bathroom. I screamed, struggling to break free. But then he'd turned the water on in the bathtub and forced me to my knees. I knew then what was coming and I renewed my struggles to get away, terrified that he was going to kill me.

"Time to clean up, Stephanie." With that, he shoved my face under the icy water.

I couldn't breathe, the water choking me. I pushed and struggled and finally Michael yanked my head out of the water. I desperately gasped for air, gratefully filling my lungs.

"Nope, not clean yet," he said calmly before pushing my head back underwater.

I thought it would never end, the relentless choking on water, my lungs burning for air, then coughing and sucking in a breath before getting shoved under again. I fought until I was too weak to do more than just endure it.

Finally, when I thought for sure he was going to kill me, he stopped. He released my hair and my scalp burned. I slumped over on the floor, wet to the skin and too exhausted to even open my eyes. I coughed and coughed, water coming up out of my lungs.

I felt Michael stand up and I curled up into a ball on the cold, wet floor, praying he'd stop hurting me. He didn't move for a moment then I heard him step over me and out of the bathroom. The bedroom door opened and shut behind him.

This time I didn't bother to stop the tears. Words I hadn't dared to utter aloud fell from my lips now like a prayer, beating back the hopelessness threatening to engulf me.

"Please, Ranger," I whispered through my sobs. "Please help me."


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

**RPOV**

It took twenty hours to plan the mission, gather the weapons we'd need and arrange for transportation. We were flying into Cost Rica, courtesy of a buddy of Tank's, then a Chinook helicopter would take us to Corn Island.

I packed my gear, concentrating on what I would need for every eventuality, trying to keep thoughts of Stephanie at bay. I added up the rounds of ammunition I was taking, rechecked the sharpness of the blade inside my boot, and added another couple of magazines for my Beretta. Tank was handling the Carbines, MP5s and their ammunition. Bobby was taking care of the M67 grenades. Our firepower would be considerable.

Checking my watch, I saw I had ten minutes left. I'd repacked my gear three times. Tank and Bobby didn't need me micromanaging their responsibilities so I checked my urge to call them.

My hands twitched slightly and I clenched my fists. I stared sightlessly at my gear. Stephanie's face as I'd last seen it swam into my vision. Her pale skin marred with bruises, her eyes terrified. Again I saw the barrel of the gun slide into her mouth, felt my fear like acid in the back of my mouth as Michael pulled the trigger.

My gun was in my hand. I hadn't even realized I'd pulled it from my holster. I made myself stop thinking. I was no good to Stephanie if I let my emotions get in the way. I had to be a machine. No feeling anything. No pain, no fear. I closed my eyes, my mind reiterating the tactical plan I'd memorized. Nothing could interfere with carrying out this mission, even if it was the most important one of my life.

Sixty minutes later, we were airborne, on our way to Costa Rica. The flight would take five hours. Impatience threatened. Only years of practice enabled me to control my frustration and anxiety. A voice in the back of my head kept telling me we'd be lucky to find her still alive. I stared out of the window, willing my mind to compartmentalize.

Tank slid into the seat next to me. He didn't say anything, which I appreciated. Everyone knew what rested on this trip, their expressions serious and sober as they talked over details with each other. Some were doing what I had done, compulsively checking and double-checking their gear and ammunition.

I spoke at the window, without turning toward Tank, knowing he could hear me. "If I don't make it, make sure Stephanie gets back to her parents." I knew if things went bad, my best chance might be bargaining with Michael for Stephanie. I'd gladly take him out, even if it meant I'd die as well, so long as Stephanie would be safe.

"Understood," Tank replied. "We'll make sure she's rescued," he continued. "One way or another."

I nodded. We didn't speak again, his silent presence a welcome reassurance as the minutes crept by. I hadn't slept, although I'd told my men to do so. Leaning back in my seat, I told my body to sleep and was out in a couple of minutes.

The wheels touching the tarmac roused me and I was instantly alert. I glanced at my watch which had automatically adjusted to the time zone. It was a little after seven in the evening and dusk was falling.

The heat was like a brick wall hitting us as we exited the plane. Even with the sun setting, I knew the heat wouldn't abate. Mosquitoes and gnats swarmed in the thick air and I felt my skin break out into a sweat.

It took only a few minutes for the men to transfer the gear and equipment to the helicopter. The flight to the island would take another forty minutes and by then it would be full dark, which was the plan.

Our contact on the ground was called Fernando, though I doubted it was his real name. He was a small man, couldn't have been older than twenty, his skin and hair much darker than mine. It had cost me over a hundred thousand dollars to buy the information from him on the location of Michael's compound on Corn Island.

"He will have guards stationed here and here," Fernando said in Spanish, pointing out the locations on the hand-drawn map resting on the floor of the helicopter. "Snipers are usually in the trees, two maybe three of them."

"What about on the inside?" I asked and he shrugged noncommittally.

"I don't know," he answered. "It changes constantly. He's paranoid about the other cartels coming after him so his guard rotates, no pattern."

My eyes met Tank's and I gave the merest of nods. The butt of Tank's gun came down on Fernando's head and he crumpled to the ground.

"Tie him up and gag him," I ordered. "Leave him in his car." The last thing we wanted was for Fernando to double his take by warning Michael we were coming. It would be a very typical thing for him to do. Tank did my bidding, then the chopper was lifting off the ground, heading out over the open ocean.

**SPOV**

I didn't know how long I laid there on the cold, wet floor. I cried until I'd passed out, then woke up with a start.

I sat up gingerly, my body hurting everywhere. I couldn't cry anymore, my mind was numb. I got up and stripped off my wet clothes. Turning the water as hot as I could stand it, I stood under the shower and let it pour over me.

I stayed in the shower until the water turned lukewarm before getting out, but I still wasn't warm. I was shivering constantly as I dried off, my practiced hands easing gently over my bruises. Distantly, I thought it was a little strange how accustomed I was getting to the pain, no longer surprised by what Michael inflicted on me.

I carelessly pulled my wet hair back into a ponytail. The back of my head was sore and tender to the touch from where Michael had hit me against the wall. My reflection in the bathroom mirror caught my eye and I stilled.

I looked like a stranger. My eyes were haunted, dark circles marring the skin underneath them. Bruises and contusions of varying shades were scattered all over my body. My hip bones jutted out sharply and I was reminded of how Michael withheld food from me when I misbehaved. I quickly turned away.

Absently, I rummaged in the closet for clothes. All that was there were dresses, never any pants or shorts. Michael never let me have any underwear either. I grabbed a dress, not bothering to see which one it was, and pulled it on.

When I stepped into the bathroom again, I stopped short, my eyes cutting back to the mirror. Of course! Why hadn't I thought of it before? I had no weapon in the room, Michael wouldn't even let me have silverware to eat with, but here was a beautiful mirror just waiting for me.

I search the room frantically, but could find nothing I could use to break it. I resolutely wrapped a towel around my arm, reasoning that my elbow could do a better job than my fist. Gritting my teeth, I bent my arm and slammed it into the glass. Pain burst through my arm but I ignored it, the crack that appeared in the glass making me smile grimly.

It took four more tries before the glass finally shattered. I gasped as a shard embedded itself in my arm and carefully removed it, ignoring the blood that seeped out. I searched amongst the debris for a large piece, finally settling on one about as long as my forearm with a sharp point. Perfect. I wrapped a towel around one end so I could hold it.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I thought about finally having a weapon to defend myself. I crawled to the middle of the bed and pulled my knees to my chest, my eyes on the door. When he came back, I'd be ready.

It was the middle of the night and I couldn't hear anything in the house. But I didn't drop my guard. Michael had come at all hours of the day and night, part of how he'd tried to keep me off-balance since I would never know when to expect him.

Hours passed and several times I had to jerk myself awake after I'd fallen asleep. The waiting was excruciating. I wondered if I could really stab Michael. A gun was different. It put distance between you and the person you killed. A knife was much more personal. Up close, feel their breath on your face kind of personal. Even after all he'd done, I didn't know if I was capable.

My eyes drooped and I jerked them open, tightening my grip on the glass shard. I reconsidered my plan. Maybe I shouldn't be so obvious about what I had. Panic from Michael's earlier attack had made me want to keep the weapon out in the open to deflect any further attacks, but maybe subtler means would be wiser.

I scooted down in the bed, resting my head on the pillow with a sigh. Carefully, I tucked my makeshift weapon under the other pillow next to me. I couldn't fight the exhaustion any longer and sleep claimed me.

I woke suddenly, fear icing my veins as I sat up and saw Michael now stood at the foot of the bed, watching me.

It was daytime now, very late in the day judging by the lay of the sun and shadows in the room. My gaze flicked quickly to the door and I saw it had been left open a bare inch. I watched Michael watch me, barely daring to breathe as I waited for him to make a move.

"I never wanted it to be like this," he finally said, his voice only slightly above a whisper. "When I met you, I thought this was it. You were the one. I thought I could fall in love with a woman like you."

I listened with half my attention, the other half already trained to watch his body language closely, alert for any sign of an attack.

"I...I have a problem," he confessed, "one I've dealt with my whole life. I took pills, medicine doctors prescribed, to control it."

My gaze sharpened at this. He ran his hand through his hair and I scooted back a little on the bed as he paced. He jerked his eyes back to mine and I froze.

"When I saw you with Manoso...I couldn't handle it." Naked pain was in eyes and I couldn't help the twinge I felt in response. "The Cartel de Sinaloa tried to kill me in Key West and you didn't even spare me a thought," he accused.

I didn't answer. Experience had taught me that nothing I would say would please him so I kept my mouth tightly shut.

"I knew what would happen, what I would become, if I stopped taking the pills, but I didn't care." His voice was both anguished and belligerent. "I knew I would hurt you, but you had to be punished."

He moved so quickly toward me that I had no time to react, my breath cut off in a gasp as he grasped my upper arms tightly.

"But I'll take the pills again, Stephanie," he entreated, "I swear I will. If you'll just promise me you'll stay. Will you do that? Will you stay with me?"

I was thinking furiously. It was obvious from what he said that he suffered from some kind of disorder and I could just imagine the strength of the drug he was supposed to take to alleviate the symptoms. I nodded my head jerkily, unable to speak. To my shock, he began to cry. He pulled me into his arms and sobbed, his face buried in my hair. I patted his back awkwardly and made shushing noises, praying that he wouldn't turn on me again. We stayed like that for a while and I didn't dare move away.

"I love you, Stephanie," he said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. "I love you so much it tears me apart inside."

I didn't, couldn't understand. Whatever he felt for me, it couldn't be love. You didn't do the things he'd done to me out of love. The last three months had been the most horrific in my life and I couldn't even process the cruelty he'd displayed on so many occasions, my mind shying away from even remembering.

I felt his lips on my bare shoulder and with a sinking heart, I knew what was coming next. I began to tremble, fear turning my mind blank. I remembered last night and knew I couldn't endure something like that again.

His hands pushed under my skirt, gliding up my thighs to cup the bare skin of my rear. He was kissing my neck now, moving slowly down toward my breast.

I reached behind me, my hand blindly pushing under the pillow until my fingers closed on the cold, sharp glass. Heedless of the pain as it cut my skin, I eased it out from under the pillow. Tightening my grip, I waited for a moment, then struck, aiming for Michael's back as he embraced me. But at the crucial moment, he turned and the jagged glass embedded itself in his arm instead of his back.

Michael roared in pain, releasing me. I scurried away but his hand closed like a vice on my arm, stopping me. He'd pulled the makeshift dagger out of his arm and now held it. I could see blood dripping down the glass.

Yanking me backward on the bed, he lay on top of me and held the edge of the glass to my throat.

"That's the third time you've tried to kill me," he hissed angrily. "I tell you I love you and this is how you repay me?"

I was crying now, crushing disappointment in my failure overwhelming me. It was hopeless. I was not going to be able to escape. I would never see Ranger again. I couldn't go on like this. It was time to end it.

"I will never love you," I spat at him through my tears. "You're a monster. I will never stop trying to leave so just kill me now. Or are you too much of a coward?"

His eyes blazed with fury at the insult and I felt a flash of satisfaction as his fist landed on my already injured cheekbone. The skin split open again and I cried out, fighting the darkness that threatened to cloud my vision. A blow landed on the side of my head, sending excruciating pain through my skull.

"Is that all you're going to do?" I managed to get out through clenched teeth. "Hit me? Be a man, Michael. Kill me."

He yanked my head back, exposing my throat, and I felt the cold dagger against my skin. Our eyes locked together, both of us panting for air, and I waited to feel the bite of the blade cut into me, resigned to my fate.

A burning sensation, then a warm trickle of fluid down my neck. I closed my eyes, praying it would be over quickly. Suddenly, Michael was no longer on top of me and my eyes flew open.

He'd moved away and had dropped the shard, staring at my neck in horror.

"My God, Stephanie, I'm so sorry!" Grabbing my hand, he yanked me up on my knees, pressing the dagger into my hand and putting it at his throat.

"Please, end this," he begged. "I can't stand it anymore. Hurting you, then realizing what I've done and knowing I'll do it again. Kill me. Save yourself."

We stayed in that macabre position for several heart-stopping minutes. But as hard as I tried, I couldn't do it. I couldn't slice his throat. My hand shook with the effort of holding onto the glass, made slippery now by the blood, both his and mine, on it.

Panicking, I tore my hand from his and leapt from the bed. He grabbed for me but I evaded him, running to the door and yanking it open before flying through it.

I heard him yell but I ran. I don't know how I managed not to run into anyone, but somehow I made it down the stairs and out the front door without being stopped.

Night was falling and long, dark shadows appeared across the lawn as my bare feet hit the grass. I ran as if the devil himself was behind me. Distantly, I heard Michael yelling my name but I didn't dare stop or look back.

It was hard to see but I ran anyway, my lungs burning in my chest as I dragged in gulps of air. I could see the black forest at the edge of the lawn and I made for it. A gunshot made me cry out as the bullet ricocheted off a nearby tree.

The one gunshot seemed to be a harbinger because the next thing I knew, the air was full of the sound of gunfire. I screamed, diving into what I hoped was the safety of the forest.

**RPOV**

A scream ripped the silence and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. We'd been on the ground for thirty minutes, making our way stealthily through the forest to Ortega's compound. I was point, feeling my way through the inky blackness of the forest.

Hal had taken out two of the snipers already as we hovered on the edge of the trees, watching the grounds for activity.

A door flew open and I watched as a woman flew out like she was being pursued by demons. Dressed in white, she stood out like a beacon in the night. It could only be Stephanie.

My grip tightened on my gun and it took an enormous amount of self-control to not go running toward her. Tactical maneuvers said unexpected events were to be observed first before changing the plan of attack.

She ran toward the trees, her bare feet flying over the grass, and I saw Michael appear in the doorway and give chase. I aimed carefully, but was startled when another shot rang out before I could pull the trigger.

A sniper was aiming for Stephanie. She screamed as the shot went wide and I changed my aim to a dark shape I saw in a tree, squeezing off a round and watching as the man fell to the ground.

Then all hell broke loose, Michael's guards firing wildly into the trees and we dove for cover. I saw Michael disappear into the forest after Stephanie. Crawling through the undergrowth to Tank, I quickly told him what I'd seen.

"Check the house, just to be sure," I ordered. "I'm going to follow Michael."

Tank nodded his acknowledgment and I retraced my steps away from the clearing, adjusting my night vision goggles so I could see more clearly.

The night was black and the forest even darker, blending into the night sky above me. I paused to listen and heard movement to my left. Silently moving through the undergrowth, I followed it.

I came upon Stephanie's dress, discarded on the ground, and paused. I spared a moment of admiration. She'd realized how her garment made her stand out in the dark and had left it behind as she escaped. That's my girl, smarter than anyone gave her credit for.

I was nearing the ocean now, I could hear it as I followed the path Michael was leaving in his haste to follow Stephanie. Suddenly, the dense canopy of trees broke and I could see pale moonlight. But what it revealed made my breath momentarily cease in my chest.

**SPOV**

The evening air was sweltering, though it was hours after sunset. I could feel rivulets of sweat rolling down my back. It was hard to even breathe; the humidity was so thick in the air. Distantly, I could hear the relentless pounding of the waves on the sand. The sound was soothing and calmed me somewhat, as it always had.

I waited, though it was killing me by slow inches. One wrong move, and it would go wrong. So wrong. My eyes squeezed shut briefly as I thought of what the consequences would be, and for a moment, my heart seemed to stutter in protest. No. I couldn't think about that. I flexed my fingers, keeping the blood moving.

The lightest of movements, barely above a whisper in the darkness, and my eyes flew open. It was time.

"What are you doing, Stephanie?" Michael called to me.

I stood on a precipice overlooking a sheer drop to the ocean. My fingers clutched the rock wall behind me, my feet barely fit on the narrow ledge. Michael was watching me from about ten feet away.

The rock bit into my naked skin, my dress I'd discarded in a futile attempt to thwart him following me. Wind caressed my skin, sending my hair into a wild torrent. I took my time in answering. It seemed I had all the time in the world now.

"Waiting," I replied calmly. The water was beautiful beneath me, the white crest of the waves breaking against the rocks mesmerizing me.

"Waiting for what?" he asked nervously, eyeing the drop beneath my feet.

"Waiting for you," I said simply, lifting my gaze to his.

"You tried to kill me," he said.

"Why shouldn't I? You keep hurting me. I can't take it anymore, Michael." I turned back to stare down at the water.

"Please, Stephanie," he begged, "please come back with me. I swear I won't hurt you again. I love you. You have to believe me."

I turned my face again toward him. He seemed sincere. There really was no way out. Not this time.

"I can't," I said weakly. "Help me."

Michael reached toward my outstretched hand and I watched in satisfaction as his foot touched nothing but empty space.

**RPOV**

I listened to the conversation in horror. I could easily have shot Michael, but I was too afraid that it would surprise Stephanie into losing her footing. She was on the narrowest of ledges. My skin broke into a cold sweat.

The wind whipped her hair around her face while the moonlight caressed her body. She appeared a vengeful goddess or a Greek siren, and just like the legends, Michael was unable to resist. I watched as they spoke, as she asked him to help her. My gut clenched in panic when he moved forward, reaching for her hand. Then I was stunned into immobility, watching as Michael stepped into thin air, into nothingness, his scream piercing the night as he fell to the rocks below.

Stephanie face was expressionless, and suddenly I knew she'd planned it this way. Looking more closely, I saw the dark chasm between her ledge and where I now stood. It was nearly invisible in the dark and I grew a little lightheaded thinking about how she'd gotten across it to her precarious position.

"Stephanie," I called out through the wind. She didn't even look up, her eyes focused on Michael's broken and unmoving body below us.

"Please, Babe. Look at me."

As always, she obeyed my plea, as if it were written in her DNA that my voice could command her. Her eyes met mine.

"Ranger," she said quietly, the wind stealing the word from her mouth and casting it into the night.

I drank in the sight of her. The moonlight casting light and shadows across her body. Her breasts were lovingly bathed in starlight, the curve of her hip shadowed, as was the triangle between her legs. A trail of dried blood ran in a rivulet from her neck and down her chest. But her eyes burned with an otherworldly fire. She was beautiful, she was ethereal, and I fought the insane impulse to drop to my knees and worship her.

"Give me your hand," I said, edging as close to the edge as I dared. Rocks crumbled beneath my feet to fall down into the carapace below.

"No, Ranger," she replied, "this needs to end. Here and now."

My blood iced in my veins. "What are you talking about, Babe? I came here for you. To take you home." Because I need you, I thought desperately.

"You don't want me, Ranger," she said, turning back toward the ocean. "What I've had to do the past few months. What I just did. I killed him, you know." Her voice was terrifying in its emptiness.

"No one blames you," I said carefully. "None of this is your fault. You can't help who Michael was. What he did to you." I swallowed hard. I didn't usually have cause to play psychiatrist, but Stephanie seemed to be hanging by a very thin thread and I had no choice. She had to understand that she wasn't to blame.

"Come with me, Babe," I pleaded. "I love you and I don't want to live my life without you in it."

She turned back toward me then, thank God, her eyes were less empty than before. Encouraged, I continued.

"You mean everything to me. I would never have stopped searching for you, never have stopped hoping. We belong together, you and me. Take my hand, Steph. Come with me."

I reached out, palm up, and prayed to a God I wasn't sure I believed in that she would take it. I held my breath as she looked at me, seeming to judge the sincerity of my words, then nearly collapsed in relief when she put her small hand in mine.

Grabbing onto a tree for purchase, I helped her across the crevice, then she was in my arms. I held her as close to me as I could get with all my gear and my throat was thick. Tipping her face upward, I could see the moonlight making the tears in her eyes and on her cheeks glitter like diamonds.

I wiped the tears away with my thumbs, smiling at her and to my relief, she smiled weakly back. Quickly taking off my holster and pack, I pulled my shirt off and dragged it over her head. It nearly swallowed her, coming down low enough to skim her thighs. Replacing my gear, I radioed to Tank that I'd found Steph. He radioed back that the house was clear and they were heading to the rendezvous point for extraction.

Stephanie looked about ready to drop and I leaned down, pulling her up into my arms. She looped an arm around my neck as I started back through the forest.

"I love you, too," she whispered, and my chest swelled with joy as I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

**RPOV**

The rest of the men were already there when I carried Stephanie out of the forest into the small clearing where the helicopter waited. No one spoke as I climbed into the aircraft, handing Steph into the hold ahead of me. Tank helped steady her so I could rid myself of my gear. I buckled her into a seat, taking the spot next to her. Her hand found mine, gripping it tightly.

It was too loud to do much talking as we flew and it didn't seem Steph was much in the mood for conversation anyway. I found her a spare pair of pants when we got on the plane, which she accepted without comment, heading aft to the lavatory to put them on.

It was a few hours later when we finally touched down in Trenton. I gently prodded Stephanie awake from where she had fallen asleep on my shoulder.

"Wake up, Babe," I whispered in her ear, my hand threaded through the soft curls in disarray around her head. She stirred, then sat up with a start, jerking away from me in fear. My gut twisted at what was obviously now an already learned response in her.

"It's all right," I said soothingly, holding my hands up away from her where she could see them. "It's me."

The frantic look in her eyes faded and she released a sigh, her whole body relaxing. "It wasn't a dream," she said quietly. "You're really here."

"I'm here," I repeated. She leaned back against me and I gratefully wrapped my arms around her. She held me tightly and I had to squeeze my eyes shut. She'd been so quiet that a part of me had wondered if she'd even been aware of what was happening as we'd left the country.

I drove her to RangeMan, of course, the idea that she would stay anywhere else not even a consideration. She didn't protest as I took her hand and led her to the elevator. I distantly realized that I was touching her obsessively and had been since I'd carried her through the forest. Holding her hand, caressing her bruised cheek while she slept, curving my arm around her waist as we walked. I didn't examine it too closely. She didn't seem to mind.

We reached my apartment about an hour before dawn. I let out a sigh. Part of me couldn't believe she was finally back, here with me again. I also knew that if I'd done things differently all those months ago, none of this would have happened to her.

"Can I take a shower?" she asked.

"Of course."

I watched in silence as she disappeared into the bathroom. I didn't want Steph to be alone if I could help it, even though I wanted to run downstairs for a shower of my own to wash the sweat from my body.

It was dawn now and not too early to call Ella for I was sure Steph would be needing to eat. In a few minutes, I'd told her of Steph's safe return. She was thrilled and promised to bring down breakfast as soon as she could. I thanked her and hung up.

I waited for Steph to come out, putting away my things from the mission, with an ear cocked to the bathroom. After a while, I glanced at my watch and realized Steph had been in the shower for nearly an hour. Concerned, I walked to the bathroom door, hesitating for a moment before knocking.

"Steph?" I called out. "Everything all right?" I heard nothing in reply so repeated myself more loudly. Still no answer. Worry gripped me and I quickly pushed open the door.

A waft of steam enveloped me and I paused to let it clear. What it revealed when it did made me rush forward.

Stephanie was standing under the shower spray, furiously scrubbing her skin while tears ran unchecked down her face. I jerked open the door, heedless of the water, and reached in. I winced when the water struck my arm, it was hot enough to scald, and pulled her out. She sagged weakly against me.

I didn't move, just stood there holding her, and breathed. I wasn't unfamiliar with post-traumatic stress and I knew it would've been a miracle for Steph to have escaped unscathed.

"I feel like I can't get him off me," she said softly. "No matter how much I wash."

My gut twisted like someone had shoved a knife in me. I had known, somewhere in the back of my mind, that Michael would have forced himself on Stephanie, but I hadn't dwelled on it or it would have driven me insane. Even now, the guilt and helplessness were nearly overwhelming.

Going on instinct, I tugged my shirt over my head and pulled her back into my arms, pressing her close to my skin. I wrapped my arms around her, rubbing my hands up and down her back, arms and shoulders. I was encouraged when her arms slid around me and she nuzzled her face into my neck.

I didn't want to let her go for even an instant so I bent and lifted her in my arms, carrying to the bed where I laid her down. Stripping off my pants, I joined her. She turned toward me in my arms, her breath warm against my chest. I kept running my hands over her, everywhere I could reach, inwardly flinching every time my fingers brushed something that shouldn't be there. Scabbed skin, welts and other marks that each seemed to accuse me in their own silent voice.

"Is it better?" I asked when I couldn't hold the words in any longer, so desperate was I to know if I was helping at all. She nodded wordlessly and I felt the constriction in my chest ease ever so slightly.

I don't know how long I touched her, it could have been hours, but she finally fell asleep, her body warm and relaxed against mine. The sun was shining brightly outside now, casting beams of light across the bed, and I was able to get a good look at her.

Bruises on her fair skin mocked me, cuts that were healing crossed her thighs and spoke of a horror that made me grit my teeth in pain. I had caused all of this, what she'd had to endure was because of my failure. I hadn't protected her. How could I ever ask her forgiveness? I couldn't imagine how strong she had to have been to withstand the last three months. She was more than I had ever or would ever deserve. She humbled me even as guilt and recriminations screamed through my mind.

In the confines of my bed, in a place that was safest to me, I allowed myself to feel all I'd ever known for this woman. My chest felt like it would crack open from the intensity. Loving her as much as I did was like standing on the edge of a precipice, knowing how it would destroy me if she were taken from me. I'd been terrified of that, of allowing myself to love her, knowing that would be giving her the ultimate power to hurt me. The only way to protect myself had been to deny what I felt, deny how much our lives and souls were entwined.

I'd been a fool.

I knew now that she held my heart in her hands. That she could crush me or toy with me and I would be powerless to deny her. I accepted it and I didn't want it any other way. When I'd told her in Key West that she was mine, I'd lied. In reality, I was hers.

**SPOV**

For the first time since what felt like forever, I woke slowly, without fear lapping at me. I was tucked into Ranger's side and it made me want to weep. He'd come for me, as I'd known he would. His presence had even kept the nightmares at bay.

I breathed deeply, savoring his scent. I remembered how he'd touched me, leaving his mark on me, erasing the feeling of Michael. I hadn't been able to put into words what I'd needed, wouldn't have even known what to ask for, but Ranger had known, healing me in his own way.

Nature was calling so I regretfully eased out of his arms and tiptoed to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face and brushed my teeth. God that felt good. My hair was a disaster but I spotted a red hair band of mine sitting on the counter so pulled it back into a ponytail.

Ranger's robe was hanging behind the door and I pulled it on, rolling the sleeves back several times. I smiled a little. I almost felt normal again.

When I came out of the bathroom, Ranger was sitting up in bed, waiting for me. My heart leapt and I smiled at him, hardly daring to believe this was real. I paused, drinking him in. His chocolate eyes glittered warmly as he looked at me, his own lips twitching upward.

"Babe," he said huskily, and I felt tears spring to my eyes. I threw myself at him and he caught me in a tight hug. Then we were kissing and I didn't know if the wetness on his cheeks was from my tears or his. We couldn't seem to get enough, our kisses frantic and lacking any kind of finesse – a testament to our need to be together more than a seduction.

Finally, we came up for air. My hands gripped his shoulders while his cupped my face. Our gazes were locked together, the only sound that of our breathing. I was so happy, it scared me a little.

Then my stomach let out a huge, disgruntled grumble and completely killed the mood. Ranger let out a little huff of laughter.

"I figured you'd be hungry," he said, getting out of bed and quickly pulling me to my feet. "Come on. I asked Ella to make some breakfast."

He yanked on some pants and took my hand, leading me to the kitchen. I stopped short, my jaw falling open.

Every available surface had been laden with a dish. Ranger was busy unwrapping and uncovering, filling the kitchen with the wonderful aroma of home cooked food. There were chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy, and blueberry muffins with not a single bran muffin to be found. I grinned in delight.

"I think this is Ella's way of saying 'welcome home,'" Ranger said dryly, handing me a plate.

I laughed and began filling my plate with more food than I knew I could possibly eat. Sliding onto a bar stool, I dug in, moaning a little at the gooey sweetness of syrup covered pancake. I ate greedily, the pancakes gone in no time flat and I started on the eggs.

I absently noticed Ranger pour two glasses of orange juice and give one to me. The food was so good and I'd been so hungry. The last food I'd eaten had been the French fries Michael had fed me.

At that thought, the bite I was chewing seemed to stick in my throat and I had to swallow heavily to get it down. My stomach rolled and for a moment I was sure I was going to be sick, the helpless terror of Michael holding me underwater looming in my memory. My eyes slammed shut and the silverware I'd been holding fell from my fingers to clatter loudly on the floor. I felt like I couldn't breathe and I gasped for air.

"Stephanie!" Ranger's hands closed on my shoulders. "Stephanie, look at me!" His voice was insistent. I pried open my eyes to see his face inches away, his mouth set in a grim line.

"It's okay. You're okay. You're safe," he said intently. "Just breathe."

I focused on his eyes, so beautiful, their warm brown depths pulling me back to the here and now. My breathing evened out as I calmed down, embarrassment creeping in on me.

"Sorry about that," I muttered, my face flushing hotly as I dropped my gaze from his. His thumb under my jaw forced my eyes back to his.

"Don't be sorry," he said so forcefully it took me by surprise. "You don't **ever** have to be sorry." I nodded uncertainly and he released me.

"I, um, I'll be right back," I said, hopping down off the stool. I felt the need to regain my composure and retreated to the bedroom. I discarded Ranger's robe and found some clothes to wear. It felt good to have Ranger's name on my underwear again, I thought with a small smile.

I walked back into the kitchen, my step faltering when I caught sight of Ranger. He was standing in front of the sink with his head bowed, his hands forcefully clutching the edge of the counter.

I waited for a moment, but he didn't move. The muscles in his back were bunched tightly and his hands didn't cease their grip. Everything about his body language screamed tightly leashed fury.

Uncertain what to do, I padded over to stand behind him, raising a hand to tentatively touch his shoulder.

"Ranger?" I asked, unsure what to say.

"Yeah?" he answered, his voice like sandpaper. He didn't turn to look at me though.

I didn't know what was wrong and my brain scrambled to come up with a reason for his anger. A thought occurred to me and I jerked my hand away from him.

"Is it me?" I said in an agonized whisper. "Are you mad that I couldn't...didn't stop him? God, I was so stupid, Ranger. I tried, I swear, I tried..." Tears clogged my throat and I couldn't continue.

He spun toward me so fast I only had time to gasp in surprise. His hands closed on my upper arms.

"How in God's name could you ever think I'd be mad at you?" he said, disbelief etched on his face. "Jesus, Steph, you've endured more than soldiers I know. I want to drop to my knees and thank God you had it in you to survive."

My panic eased at his words. I hadn't realized how afraid I'd been that he'd blame me for not being able to stop Michael.

He pulled me toward him. We stood there locked in each other's arms. Glancing down, I saw a new scar on his chest. I pulled away, guilt clawing at me.

"Oh my God," I said, my voice shaking. "That's where he shot you." My hand traced the angry red mark on his chest. If it had been a couple inches further to the right...but I couldn't think about that, my mind shying away from finishing that thought. I'd thought Ranger had died that night on the beach and I'd nearly gone mad with grief.

Ranger captured my fingers in his. "I'm fine, Babe," he said.

I nodded wordlessly, unable to speak.

"Will you stay?" Ranger asked quietly, taking my hands in his. "I can take you to your parents', if you want. But I'd rather have you here. With me."

My throat clogged with tears, but I blinked them back. I smiled.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," I said honestly. His body relaxed infinitesimally. Then he was kissing me and I held him as tightly as I could.

x

Days passed and turned into weeks. Life went on. Though things had changed.

I'd gone to see my parents as soon as the bruises had faded. Mom was overjoyed I'd returned to Trenton and I think Dad was glad, too, though he didn't say it in words. Mom asked why I'd gone so long without calling her and I lied, telling her that Michael had taken me on a vacation somewhere exotic where cell phone towers were scarce. His name nearly strangled in my throat, but I didn't know what else to say.

I had told her that Ranger and I had gotten back together. She didn't say much to that and I think she had yet to forgive Ranger for my leaving six months ago, though his bringing me back home went a long way towards that. I figured she would be fine with time.

I hadn't spoken to a soul about what I'd gone through with Michael, save for Lula. I couldn't talk about it with Mary Lou, I didn't want to see the pity in her eyes. I couldn't talk about it with Ranger, I was afraid he'd never look at me the same. Lula was the only person I knew who could understand. So we sat in a bar on a Tuesday afternoon drinking beer and she listened as I haltingly told her the story.

"That's some seriously fucked up shit," she muttered after I'd finished. I nodded, taking a long pull of my beer. Lula didn't patronize me and she didn't coddle me, for which I was glad. I was tired of being the victim - I wanted to be strong again.

"So how do you forget it?" I asked, because that's what I really wanted to know. I didn't want to remember all the things that had happened while I was in Nicaragua. I didn't want a flashback to hit me out of nowhere and leave me tense and shaken in its wake.

Lula shook her head sadly. "Girl, you don't forget," she said sadly. My heart sank. "You just gotta learn how to go on."

"How do I do that?"

"It just takes time, girl," Lula said sympathetically. "No miracles are overnight."

"But...," I hesitated. "But I have to do something. Ranger and I...I don't know what to do."

"What are you talkin' about?" she asked. "What about you and Batman?"

"We haven't...he hasn't...not since I came back." I couldn't say the words.

She frowned at me. "You mean you and Batman haven't done the deed since you got back?" I shook my head. Lula's eyebrows climbed in surprise.

"I don't know what's wrong," I said weakly. "He kisses me and touches me, but that's all. I'm afraid that...that he isn't attracted to me anymore – doesn't want me – because of Michael."

Lula was already shaking her head. "That's impossible, girl. Men ain't like that. If I had to guess – I bet he feels guilty."

"Guilty for what?" I asked, confused. "Michael **shot** him. Because of me! If anyone is guilty, it's me."

"Batman's been protecting you for a long time," Lula said with a sigh. "The kind of man he is...how you think he's gonna react knowing you were raped and beaten for three months straight?"

I flinched at her bluntness, but appreciated it. I didn't need sugar-coating. I had to fix whatever was wrong between Ranger and me. He'd been treating me with kid gloves ever since he'd brought me back.

"You're gonna have to talk to him," she said. "Tell him it wasn't his fault. Forgive him."

"There's nothing to forgive," I said adamantly.

"It doesn't matter," she said with a shake of her head. "If he needs you to say it, you say it."

I thought about what Lula had said later that night after I'd gone to bed. Ranger had kissed me good night, saying he'd join me later, that he had work to do.

I laid in bed, watching the clock and waiting. This had been the routine. Ranger would wait until I was asleep before coming to bed and he was up before me, bringing a cup of coffee in to wake me with a kiss. It was sweet and thoughtful. And I hated it.

I wanted him to treat me like he normally would. Tease me and tempt me and make me thrilled to be alive. Instead, it was like I was made of glass that could break too easily.

I didn't feel like that.

I mean, yeah, I still had horrible flashbacks that I tried to hide from Ranger. But I wasn't about to let Michael control another moment of my life – he'd already had too much.

Crawling out of bed, I went in search of Ranger. His office was dark and empty. The rest of the apartment was darkened as well and I paused in confusion. My eyes adjusted to the dark and I finally saw him, the shadow of his body dark against the windows as he stood with his back to me, staring out at the city.

I heard the tinkle of ice and saw him raise a glass to his lips and drink deeply. I hesitated, unsure what to do. But the thought of another day, and night, like the ones we'd been having was unbearable. I made myself move toward him, stopping only when I stood right behind him. Our eyes met in the glass and he quickly turned.

"What's wrong?" he asked anxiously. "Did you have a nightmare?" I cringed a little. I'd hoped those had escaped his notice. A denial was on my lips when I caught a scent on the air. Bourbon. My words froze in my throat and I was momentarily stunned. I had never seen Ranger drink alcohol before.

"You're drinking," I said dumbly.

He glanced down at the glass in his hand, then back at me. "I think I passed twenty-one a while back, Babe," he said dryly.

"I know, I just...I thought you didn't drink," I stammered.

"Now I do," he said flatly.

I swallowed heavily as I processed this, unease overtaking me, but I persevered. "Why are you drinking, Ranger?" I asked. "What's wrong between us? Is it me?"

He threw back the rest of the liquid in the glass before answering. "Of course not, Babe. Nothing's wrong."

My eyes stung, but I blinked back the tears. "Don't lie to me, Ranger," I said angrily. "We haven't made love since you brought me back." I hated the next thing I was going to say, but forced the words out anyway. "If I...disgust you, because of Michael-"

His glass crashed to the floor and his hands closed on my waist, dragging me to him. "Don't say that," he gritted out, his face inches from mine. "Don't even think such a thing."

"What am I supposed to think?!" I cried out, unable to stop the tears streaming now from my eyes. "You treat me like I'm going to break, like I'm an invalid! I don't want that! I just want things to be normal again. Tell me what I have to do for it to be normal again."

He abruptly released me, turning back toward the window and shoving his hand through his hair. When he spoke, I had to strain to hear.

"It's me, Steph. How can you even stand to look at me after what I've done?"

"What you've done?" Now I was utterly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"It's my fault. All of it."

"You saved me-" I began, but he cut me off.

"I failed you," he said baldly. "I didn't protect you. If I had stayed focused that night on the beach, he never would have taken you. I failed and you…you paid the price."

I swallowed my tears, realizing now the truth in what Lula had tried to tell me. All this time since I'd been back, Ranger had been wracked with guilt, punishing himself for not being able to keep me from Michael.

I brushed my hands across my cheeks, quickly wiping the tears away. I went to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my cheek against his back.

"Ranger, it wasn't your fault. You didn't fail me. What happened was the result of my choices and Michael being what he was. You don't get to blame yourself." We weren't going to do this, not now, not after all we'd been through. I wasn't going to let him beat himself up with guilt and drive a wedge between us.

"If anything, it's my fault," I continued. "He nearly killed you because I was too stubborn to leave."

"I should have protected you," he insisted. His voice was thick and rough. "He took you, terrorized you, raped you..." His words trailed away into silence.

"Please," I whispered, "the more you push me away because of guilt, the more I lose. We've lost enough, don't you think?"

We stood in silence. Finally, he turned around, pulling me into his arms and I went willingly, relieved. Words couldn't express the feeling of utter safety that enveloped me when he was near and I basked in it.

"Forgive me?" he rasped, and I heard the need in his voice. I felt there was nothing to forgive - he'd done nothing wrong. He'd done all he could and more to save me from myself. But I knew Lula was right - he needed to hear it, needed to hear the words. So even though I shied away from the wrongness of it, I nodded.

"I forgive you."

RPOV

The weight that had been pressing on my chest and threatening to suffocate me for weeks finally eased. It was still there and I knew it would never leave, not completely, but I could live with it. God knew Steph was living with her own version of hell.

I knew she thought she was hiding the flashbacks, that I didn't know about the nightmares, but she was wrong. I noticed every time her skin paled and her breath caught. Her eyes would lose focus and my hands would close into fists, struggling not to touch her. I knew the flashbacks made her feel weak and embarrassed her so I clenched my jaw tightly shut and let her find her own way out. My guilt had been a living thing, accusing me as I watched, unable to help her.

The nightmares had been the worst. The things she said in her sleep horrified me. I could comfort her then, when she was unaware, dragging her body close to mine. She seemed to sense me and her stiff body would relax, falling back into a dreamless sleep. I'd lay in the dark, her words replaying themselves in my head over and over. Pleas to Michael, begging him to stop. It made me want to vomit.

I'd expected her to leave every day. I'd braced myself for it. I'd expected any moment for her to look at me with disgust and realization in her eyes, as disappointed in my failure to protect her as I was.

I'd held out little hope that she would forgive me. The fact that she had...stunned me. Humbled me. Robbed me of speech.

I caressed her jaw, tipping her face up to mine. Carefully, reverently, I placed my lips on hers, my fingers brushing her face.

Her arms wound around my neck, pulling me down forcefully to her. Her lips parted and I groaned as her tongue tangled with mine.

"Make love to me," she whispered and my cock jerked in response. Her hand grasped me through the fabric of my jeans. I clung to my control, hanging by a thin thread.

I'd lain next to her in the bed for weeks now, night after night, wanting her so badly. But I'd restrained myself from going there, afraid of how she would react, terrified that she'd associate what I was doing with what Michael had done to her.

I kissed her, allowing just a small part of the ceaseless hunger I had for her to show in the way my mouth moved over hers. I wanted to rip her clothes off and take her right there. On the floor, up against the wall, it didn't matter. I missed her. I missed the connection we had, the connection of our souls when our bodies met. But I didn't want to rush her. Didn't want to make the mistake of taking it too far, too soon.

"Please, Ranger," she said, her hands nimbly undoing my fly. "I need you."

Her bald statement was my undoing. I would do anything this woman asked of me. But it wasn't going to be the primal act I was feeling inside. She deserved better.

I suddenly remembered then what she'd said to me all those months ago, after she'd heard me tell Tank how good we were in bed together.

_"You love having sex with me and you sure do like me a lot. But that's not enough."_

I realized that, yet again, that was all I was offering her - a chance to be fuck-buddies. Even my asking her to stay with me could be taken as my trying to assuage my own guilt. After all she'd been through, all she'd given up and endured, here she was – accepting what I was offering because I hadn't given her anything else.

A thought crossed my mind that was physically painful. Perhaps she was willing to accept the measly bargain because she thought that's all she was worth to me. After all, that's all I'd ever shown her. Michael had tortured her body, but I would be a poison to her soul if I continued what had been before.

Self-loathing rose in me and I vowed never again. Never again would I let Stephanie think she wasn't everything to me. Never again would I allow myself to treat her as anything less that the woman I loved with every part of me.

I pulled away from her, wrapping my hand around her wrist as she tried to free me from my jeans.

"No," I said fiercely. Her eyes widened in surprise and hurt. "Not like this, Babe," I said more gently, my thumb stroking the tender line of her jaw.

"Why?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly. "What's wrong?"

I raised her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it before answering. "Nothing's wrong, Babe," I said. "I just want to do this the right way."

Her brows knit in confusion, then her eyes widened as she watched me bend until I was on one knee in front of her. I saw when realization struck because her eyes flooded with tears, her free hand shaking as she covered her mouth.

"Stephanie Marie Plum," I said solemnly, "would you do me the extraordinary honor of marrying me?"

This was the first time in my life I'd actually proposed to a woman. Before, it had just been understood that Rachel and I would marry to give the baby a name, but that's all it had been. I had underestimated how momentous it felt, how I held my breath as I waited for her answer, realizing how much I desperately wanted her to say yes.

"I love you," I said, my throat thick with emotion. "I don't want to spend another day, another night, without knowing you're mine in every way. Say yes. Say you'll be my wife, Babe."

Tears were flowing down her face now and I rose, gently wiping them away. I was unsure if they were tears of joy or...something else. I tugged her hand from her mouth and saw that her lips were curved in a blinding smile.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I'll marry you."

Relief and happiness ricocheted through me and I wrapped my arms around her waist, picking her up and kissing her through her tears. Her legs circled my hips and I carried her back to my bed, our lips clinging together.

Laying her down on the bed linens, I caught the edge of the t-shirt she was wearing and tugged it upward over her head, discarding it carelessly on the floor. She was beautiful and I took a moment to appreciate the sight of her in my bed, naked save for a scrap of lace between her thighs.

My hands skimmed her abdomen, my touch feather light. For the first time, I was unsure how to proceed with her. She said she wanted me to make love to her, but would she regret it? What if something bothered her, frightened her? Would I even know? My hesitation must have shown.

"Don't treat me like I'm made of glass, Ranger," she said. "I don't want that." She grabbed my wrist, moving my hand until it covered her breast. Reaching for me, she pulled my down to kiss her, parting her legs to cradle my hips.

Desire licked through my veins. God, she felt so good beneath me. My mouth marked a trail down her neck to her breasts. I resolved to trust her – trust that she knew her own mind and body. Trust that I could show her my love, as my body was demanding I do.

SPOV

Ranger stopped being overly gentle, thank God. I didn't think I could handle it if he made love to me like I was mentally unstable, thinking I might break into hysterics at any moment.

His warm calloused hands brushed my skin, leaving a burning fire in their wake. His lips and tongue on my breasts made me forget everything but him and how incredible he made me feel, had always made me feel.

Impatient now, I pushed at his jeans, shoving until I could feel underneath. No underwear, just skin. His cock sprang free into my eagerly waiting hand.

He was warm and hard and I stroked his length, the sensation of wanting him inside me becoming nearly unbearable. I was wet and ready for him. His mere presence intoxicating to me. Ranger groaned again, the sound muffled against my skin, and I smiled, pleased at the effect I was having on him.

His fingers slipped between my legs, parting my slick folds and sliding inside me. I gasped, instinctively lifting my hips to meet his thrusting fingers. His thumb caressed the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs while his fingers curved inside to press against me. The feeling was incredible and I shattered, shuddering helplessly in his arms as I cried out. Ranger's mouth came down hard on mine, swallowing my cries.

Parting my legs to accommodate him, Ranger pushed inside me. He tore his lips from mine, both of us gasping for air. Our eyes met and held as he moved, his body thrusting into mine. He took his time, slowly retreating, and I could feel every inch of him. I clutched his shoulders, my eyes drifting shut in pure pleasure. He pressed light kisses to my closed eyelids.

"Look at me," he whispered. I opened my eyes. He cradled my head in his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones. But it was his eyes that made the air seize in my lungs. I had never seen him look at me that way, with his heart in his eyes, and it made me want to cry again. Before I could help myself, I couple tears escaped to trail down the side of my face.

"Shh," he said, brushing them away. "Don't cry, Babe. Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?"

I shook my head frantically. "No, please don't stop," I choked out. "It's perfect. You're perfect." I smiled through my tears. I was marrying this man and I nearly couldn't wrap my head around that thought. Everything I'd ever wanted was here in my arms.

I pulled his mouth down to mine, wrapping my legs around his waist and urging him on. His hands moved to my hips, tilting me to a different angle which made me cry out again as he moved harder and faster within me.

A litany of words fell from my lips and I didn't waste brain power trying to decipher them. Something along the lines of "Oh God!" and "Yes, there!" and "Don't stop!" Then I wasn't thinking at all as Ranger moved just like that and...Oh God!

Stars exploded behind my eyes. My body convulsed around Ranger's cock as he emptied himself inside me, our bodies perfectly in synch, his orgasm pushing mine further in intensity, and it seemed Ranger and I really were one rather than two.

After a moment of catching our breath, Ranger rolled to his back, pulling me with him so I lay on top, my head resting on his chest. I listened to his heart beat strongly underneath me, closing my eyes as tears threatened again. I'd come so close to losing this man. Turning my head, I pressed a kiss to the new scar on his chest, vowing he'd never again have cause to get another on my behalf.

Ranger's hand tangled in my hair as he held me and I was content to lie there, listening to him breathe and the sound of his heart beating.

"I love you," he said quietly, his voice strong in the dark. I smiled.

"I know," I said simply. I turned to look up at him, bending my arm across his chest so I could rest my chin. I smiled. I couldn't help it. This was the stuff fairytales were made of. A knight in shining armor, rescuing the damsel in distress, marrying her and carting her off to his castle for incredible sex (Disney always left out the good part). Okay, so you'd have to substitute a flak vest for "armor," my sorry ass instead of a Disney "damsel," and as Lula had put it, some seriously fucked up shit for "distress," but it was my fairytale. And I was getting my happy ending. Which I felt I deserved, and so did Ranger.

"Were you serious?" I asked, wanting to make sure it hadn't been a heat-of-the-moment thing.

"About what?" he asked, still absently stroking my hair. "Loving you? Of course I'm serious, Babe. Tell me you know that."

I shook my head. "No, I mean, about getting married. I thought you weren't the marrying kind." The words I'd overheard him say to Tank echoed through my head and I winced. I prayed he hadn't asked me to marry him out of guilt.

"Things change, Babe," he said, his eyes serious. "People change. I want different things now. I want you. I was a fool before, not realizing what we had until it was too late. I'm a smart man. I won't be making that same mistake."

I smiled at him, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

"Just tell me when, Babe," he said quietly. "We can hop on a plane and be in Vegas by morning. Or we can plan a wedding with all the trimmings. The courthouse would work, too. Whatever you want. I just want to marry you, any way you'll have me."

I thought about it. What did I want? I was so rarely asked that question, everyone always deciding for me what I should want. I thought about it before answering.

"I know what I want."

THE END


End file.
